Honey, we have to talk, because it happened again today.
I ran into the house, eager to relieve myself after an hour and a half of carpool, and beelined to the bathroom. I lifted the lid, only to face … it. Splatter. Fourth of July fireworks level splatter along the inside of the bowl.
It’s gross.
Do you even see it after you flush? It seems hard to miss, particularly since you pee facing forward. Or do you have special poo-vision, that renders it invisible to the content creator?
Please. Take one minute after your daily ritual to use the squirty thing under the cabinet, and the brushy thing next to the toilet, and make all that is brown white again.
It seems so easy, right? I did it. And when I lifted the lid to do it, I got the added bonus of dried-up urine along the edge of the seat. Now I know you saw that. Come on. The disinfectant wipes are right there!
Tonight, when you slide next to me in bed and let your hand linger near my leg, just to see if I’ll take the initiative even though it’s not Tuesday, please remember that before I could do something as basic as go potty, I got to clean your mess up first.
Sure, it only took me two minutes, just like it would have taken you. But the reminder of that very unpleasant moment is fresh, unlike what I wiped away. So if I don’t seem like I’m in the mood, maybe it’s because I was faced with your poop today. Just a thought.
I love you, baby. You’re a great husband and father and teammate. I don’t mind doing the laundry and cleaning the house, and you’re a pro at getting your side of the chores done, too. But, dude. Please clean the toilet. Keep the spark alive.
You can even leave the seat up. I don’t care. As long as it’s clean.
Thanks.
