No... this is not what you think it is. Self-pity, while obviously being a large part of my make up, is not what drives the publishing of this blog. No, I write on whims, and publish only when I have the courage or, as some might be tempted to call it, the audacity to think that what I wrote might provide y'all with an interesting read. The only difference this time is that, as I have tried to hint at by the title, I don't quite give a crap.
See, it's not, as I may have alluded to somebody earlier, that I have been lacking blogging inspiration or the mojo as some of you are fond of calling it; no the inspiration has been there, only this time it's been largely negative as opposed to the waxing positivity y'all have grown to expect. Forgive my vanity... a man can wish can't he? I do like to think of myself as an artist after all... but what is an artist without an audience? Anyway take this one for instance.
So there I was going through my day yesterday, when an urgent call of nature came in....
Irritated, I take the call and I'm further dismayed that it is a number two call. I glance at my clock to see if I have time to take it.... I didn't but I didn't really have the choice of postponing it anyway, hence the 'urgent' before call, right? I had to make the time. So excusing myself from my busyness, I find my way to our remodelled crapper.
So there I am, feeling all warm and invited a la the new warm and inviting ambiance that is the result of the remodelling, when a hissing noise above reminds me that I shouldn't quite get too comfortable. And as if the noise wasn't enough, a pungent gas suddenly envelopes me and in no uncertain terms lets me know that I have not only wasted the last five minutes not doing my work, but that also the waste that I have been getting rid off has resulted in the polluting of the air.
O.K.... so why should I give a crap about that? I ask myself. And while I'm at it, I decide to ask myself twenty other questions.... like what's with all the automation of this crapping business?
Has anyone noticed that they are taking away all the things that mattered away from the crapping experience... I mean, does it not piss you off that you can't even flush the darn shitter anymore? I know it does me. I mean I reach back for my mid-crapping flush but the handy lever that we used to flush with is nowhere to be found. No sweat, might as well count that as my contribution to a greener earth.... Then, as I shift around to efficiently and hopefully effectively, use the toilet paper, the auto-flusher senses my movement and flushes. I stand up and it flushes again... I walk out the door and the trigger happy thing goes off again as if to mock me.
I suppress the expletive that is threatening to explode from my mouth, mindful of the fact that anyone walking in on me cursing out the shitter might get spooked, and walk to the fancy new faucet ready for some hot hand sanitizing action but alas! no handles here either. Instead a stupid sign directs me to place my hands under the spout but the water that spews from it can not even be classified as luke-warm: Not anymore than the foam that comes from the automatic soap dispenser be called soap.
Disgusted after an un-thorough hand washing, I turn, now fully resigned to my powerless fate, and insert my wet hands into the hand drier and wait for it to do this apparently mundane task. It starts to enthusiastically attempt to blow the wetness off of my wrists. It is only after I have angrily wiped my hands off of my pants and I'm pulling the door open that I notice the directions etched on the fastest most sanitary drier in the market that say I should move my hands in an up and down motion for it to be effective.
Aaargh! I walk out feeling shittier than I did before walking in. I tell you, this would never have happened in the good old days before the automation. On the other hand, that means that this post would never have happened... and God forbid but September 09 would have gone down as the month this blog went postless. No Shit!
