Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Adjusting to life, piles of dishes, and odd toilet habits

When you think about it, life is just a series of adjustments.

You've got the big, major life changing ones that are worthy of celebration, fanfare, emergency rescues or expensive legal fees. I'm thinking break-ups, divorces, illness, having babies, getting married, buying a dog, or changing your god-awful career.

Then there's the changes you don't know you've made; the slow, barely perceptible adjustments done without realising: abandoning friends for a boy, the clawing back of self-confidence, a day passed with no thoughts of an ex, or lasting a whole day in high heels.

And finally, there's the "little and often" adjustments you make everyday, usually as a result of the bigger ones.

Case in point:

The biggest thing to happen this year, bar getting royally trampled on in the heart department (you'll notice omitting this from all blog posts is an adjustment I haven't yet made) is finally getting my sheet(s) together, moving out of home and into central London. 

This was the big adjustment, the one I've hankered after throughout my twenties. It heralded a life where coming home (or not) is done on my own terms, where the last tube home can leave without me on it, and meetings with either sex aren't answerable to the flagship of all parental questions: "Who's that then?".

And so, as with any big change, minor adjustments are inevitable. For example: allowing dishes to pile in the sink for longer than the time it takes to eat a meal, although granted, not to the height they did at university. Putting loo seats down without a dramatic slam and yell of "Fa' god's SAKE", and accepting that your sleep may be disrupted by someone stumbling in later than you, running the shower and promptly vomiting all over it. 

All these little things are now a part of life without parents, and readily accepted - vomit and all - as being par for the twenty-something course. 

But in between realising that no one else is going to mop the floor by the bin and entering into the quirks of shared living, there has been one, distinctly coupley thing which might not be so easy to accept. 

Because as long as the wall between my bedroom and the bathroom remains thin, I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the sound of one housemate weeing, while the other brushes their teeth.

Call me prudish, or worse - single, but it's just not cricket.

For I will de-hair a sink and put aside all OCD thoughts when sharing my toothpaste, but couple or not -  toilet time will always be a single endeavour. 


18 comments:

Blonde said...

Word. There should always be some mystery, even if it's limited to wee.

Ellie said...

I am an (early) forty something now; and as are the vagaries of life, I am now sharing my bathroom with a boy of 24. No, nothing going on there ... He is the dogwalker and for purposes of his schedule and that of the dog, he needs to shower at my place. I obsess over how poorly he hangs up the bathmat after bathing. Not sharing has it's advantages.

monkey typist said...

As long as they don't join you in the bathroom...

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Blonde - The toilet is my sanctuary. Or something.

Ellie - It does indeed make you appreciate alone time in a whole new way. This weekend I had the place to myself and I scrubbed every room I've been wanting to scrub for weeks. It felt wonderful.

monkey - Don't. Even. Go. There. Girlfriend *clicks fingers*

Leigh said...

I find going to the toilet in hotels while staying with a dalliance difficult enough. The same room is just a no no.

This is the first time I've spotted your eurgh that mings tag, I'm intrigued but scared to press it.

Martin said...

I was about to comment with "YES, toilet time is alone time", but then I discovered I can't remember the last time my throne-sitting wasn't interrupted by an inquisitive dog, or a spot of light tweeting.

At least I put my phone on silent, nobody needs to hear tapping.

atrillionmiles said...

I hate it when anyone talks to me through the wall when I'm in the bathroom let alone allowing someone to be in the same room as me when I'm "busy". Keep some things a mystery I say!

Breeza said...

I'm with atrillionmiles and you. The bathroom is a private place for one!

unpackingbooksfromboxes said...

EXACTLY. I really don't understand how people can think otherwise.

theperpetualspiral said...

The only rule in this house is that bathroom time is alone time.

jman said...

And yet do you recoil in horror at the sight of a dog doing its business in public? Guys are used to the lack of privacy occasioned by the urinals in many a gents. What is it about doing something which every person from the Queen to the homeless does which makes you and so many others so skittish? Do you feel the same way about brushing your teeth? Sleeping? Eating?

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Leigh - Yess on the hotel toilet thing. Especially those weird posh bathrooms with frosted glass windows. What's with those?

Martin - Dogs are the exception to the rule. When I had a cat, it was even worse. She'd meander in and just look at me with disgust and wonder like I was breaking some sort of code of conduct.

atrillionmiles - Exactly. See also, sharing toilets with female friends on drunken nights out.

Breeza - Hear hear! Let's start a campaign against joint loo usage! A women's toilet is her TOILET GODDAMMIT

unpacking - I can only imagine some sort of epiphany re: toilet usage will hit me when I reach the ripe old age of coupled.

perp - What about loo seat? What about using the last of the milk? Your house is a veritable hippy commune!

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

jman - I'll be honest. Maybe it's a girl thing. But there's the fear of letting rip for one. It just doesn't pave the road to romance for me.

AFC 30K said...

Even after 14 years wifey and I don't although it has to be said that this is more mu choice than hers; she'd quite hapily share wee time.

That said at home I always seem to be interupted by children......

Wefey originallt said 'well he needs to learn how to do it' which is a fair point, but now my daughter feels left out if her brother is somewhere she's not. #thinendofthewedge

cynicalscribble said...

Thin walls between bathrooms and bedrooms: I heard my flatmates mother having a piss one day.

It's not cricket indeed.

Loki Mars said...

Totally agree. I was on the coach the other day and was unfortunately sat near the Toilet, cue hearing various Women peeing throughout the journey which made me want to curl up and die.

nuttycow said...

I don't know what it is about all things lavatorial which are just so embarrassing. Personally, I'm with you and Blonde - there are some things that men should never see. NEVER. I like to keep up the mystique that I am a godess like woman who floats through life on a cloud of perfume.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

AFC - Wifey does have some clout with the "they need to learn" argument. However, there's a fine line between educating your children, and scarring them for life. ;)

Cynical - TOO FAR, TOO FAR. Everyone knows people over 50 don't wee.

Loki - Ah, the seat-near-the-toilet conundrum. You're close for ease of access, but too close for audio and smell comfort. Feel your pain.

nuttycow - Yep. I maintain (apart from this one time where we were sharing a hotel room, and I HAD TO GO), that girls don't do toilet. Ever.

 

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