The boys' bathroom.

It doesn't LOOK all that scary, right?

I sit here in front of my computer typing away.

It's not because I have anything profound to say, really.

It's because I'm avoiding something.

I'm avoiding my most hated, most dreaded, most loathed of all tasks.

See, it's time to...

Cue ominous music.

Clean the boys' bathroom.


*Duh-duh-DUH!*


First, let me say that I realize just how fortunate I am to have a separate bathroom for the boys.  I'm THRILLED that I don't have to share my personal private bathroom space with them and all their bodily fluids and little boy funk.

But cleaning their bathroom is BY FAR the worst job I've ever had to do, and coming from someone who worked for seventeen years in a retail store that had public restrooms, that's saying a LOT.  Lord, the things I saw...  I'm still not sure how women manage to pee on the walls.  Men, I get, but women...  It's anatomically impossible.  Except, somehow, apparently it's not.

I was definitely one of those stupid "I will never ask you to do anything I wouldn't do myself" kinds of managers, which means every time somebody pooped in a urinal or flushed a diaper and caused an overflow, guess who got the call?  Yeah, me.  Once when I was an assistant manager, a customer approached me and said "Your men's room needs attention."  Uh-oh.   That's never good.  Also, he looked kinda green when he said it.  Expecting to walk into a giant mess, I suited up - rubber gloves on, trash bags ready, mop bucket prepared, plunger in hand, only to walk in and see... nothing.  No shit dripping from anywhere, no overflowing toilets... I kicked open the first stall.  All clear.  Whew.  I kicked open the second stall, and there I saw it.  In the toilet was the largest poop I have ever seen in my life.  It was perfectly round and roughly the size of a cantaloupe.  Flushing just made it swirl around, but it was too big to actually go down.  Finally, I resorted to breaking it up with the stick end of the plunger so it would flush.  Afterwards, I threw the plunger in the trash, and the manager blamed the cleaning crew for stealing it.  I never said a word.  Some things, you just don't talk about.

But I digress.

To be honest, I'd rather be back in the land of giant poops and toilet paper all over the floor than to have to clean zj and cj's bathroom.

'Cause it's RANK, y'all.

I mean, I clean it more often than I do any room in my house, and while that's not saying a lot, really, it still amazes me how they can manage to pee on everything in there.  In one bathroom trip.  And I mean EVERYTHING.

And the smell.  Lord, the smell.  It's something between locker room and sewer, with just a touch of old garbage can.

Seriously, how can two little little boys cause such an atrocity?

I can only imagine that this will get (*gag*) worse as they get older.

Ok, forget it.  I just talked myself out of it,  I'm not going to clean their bathroom.

I probably need to start building up a tolerance to it, right?