WIPE OUT

Out of western Kansas tonight comes the bizarre story about a woman who had been living in the bathroom of her boyfriend's mobile home--for two years. She had been sitting on the toilet stool so long that the seat was embedded into her skin and it had to be surgically removed. The investigating police officer said, "I've never seen anything like it." No kidding!

Obviously this poor woman never had to share a bathroom with five children. If so, she never would have been able to use it for longer than two minutes, and then she would have been forced out by some kid screaming, "If I don't get in NOW, I'm going to pee my pants!" That was the standard war cry at our house when I was growing up.

Hogging the bathroom was a sin. We were expected to get in, do our duty, constipation be damned, and get the heck out. No time wasting allowed...unless you were my big brother Beans, who insisted upon reading comic books and lighting matches until the door was practically busted down by a desperate, irate sister. "Mom, he's been in there for over 10 minutes!!!"

Our bathroom also had the big disadvantage of being the smallest one in all of Fredonia. I do not exaggerate here. It fit one person, barely. The only way it fit two was if one of the inhabitants was in the bathtub or sitting on the porcelain throne. Standing room only, and that was directly in front of the sink. I have no idea how my brothers managed to do their #1 standing. I don't even want to think about it!

I recall at one time Momma Bore considered busting out a wall and expanding the bathroom, but she's lived in the same house for over 50 years now, and nothing has changed...except the number of people living in the household. Once we kids flew the coop, she discovered that she no longer had to make a reservation to relieve herself. What a royal flush that must have been!