Wonder: Toilet Seats

Wonder.  Isn't that a remarkable word?

I was sitting with a writer friend—a literary type—and we were talking about things in general, delving into personalities, actions, motives,  assumptions...speculating on scenarios.  And in the midst, she noted, "Perhaps I wonder too much."

Hmmmm.  Well for her, in many ways wondering was her job, as it is for most writers.

And I have to admit, I wonder too.  Life is filled with so many mysteries, so many different perspectives, so many different layers of truth.  Such richness.  Indeed, such wonder.  Can there be too much?

Well...it depends how much time you have to spare wondering.  Because it can be a fairly time consuming habit!  Indeed, it can expand to encompass all time.

Here's my most recent wondering experience (alas, not a nice one):

Yesterday, I had the unpleasant—I think almost entirely female experience—of going to the Womens' Room in a restaurant and sitting on a wet toilet seat (lighting was low).

Now I have spent years wondering why a woman who clearly is overly obsessed (in my opinion) about GERMS would decide the right thing to do is urinate all over the toilet seat such that someone else may sit on a seat they have fouled.

Really?  You couldn't lift the seat with your foot and hover over the bowl? It's excellent for tightening those flabby thigh muscles!  Or just use the often available toilet seat cover?

The good news is that urine is almost always sterile, so as disgusting an experience as it is, the likelihood of any harm (aside of rather strange wet spots on the back of one's pant legs) is minuscule.

But the hypocrisy of this germ-phobic human dumping her waste so that others may sit in it just boggles my mind.

Perhaps it's an aggressive act? Like a hacker sending a computer virus just for the fun of messing up strangers' lives? That at least offers me some logic.  Perhaps the world is filled with angry souls, acting out in small ways.  Perhaps, as I wipe myself, I should send a silent pitying prayer to the offender, rather than a not-so-silent curse! Perhaps....

Though I have to admit, I am, in general, very pro-germ.  If I pause to reflect (yes, OK, wonder) on where obsessive cleanliness will get you, it is not a place I want to be.  I want my body trained—like an athlete—to handle germs easily, without breaking a sweat.

Hey, I eat things I've dropped on the floor, and I'm still alive. No, I'm not allergic to anything—my body is a finely tuned germ-ingesting instrument! For me, the germ phobia road leads to a version of becoming David, the bubble baby.

I celebrate a world filled with good things and bad things.

And I wonder....