Wash your Hands!

As promised, today I vent about hand washing. Teenagers seem to be part cat; both have an aversion to water. Witness those teenage boys after gym class who would rather douse themselves with that awful smelling Axe crap. Granted, the young man might smell better if a little moderation was used when spraying himself to cover the aromatic fragrance that is “Unbathed Boy.” So, if regular bathing to impress young girls is not a priority in his life, what chance have we got to get him to wash his hands just for consuming dinner? On that rare occasion that Scruffy decides to obey his parents and wash his hands, why does he walk out of the bathroom with his index finger planted deep within his nasal passage? In years to come, he may end up as one of those morons who deposits his boogers on the walls of public bathrooms. If are reading this, and you are one of those frequent depositors, does the word “tissue” mean anything to you? Oh, but I digress; back to hand washing. Our teenager has just emerged from the bathroom after washing for a second time-he is still vehemently arguing that he was only “scratching” his nose- when I enter the bathroom to find water everywhere-on the mirror, on the counter, on the walls, and even on the ceiling. Wait, is this the same young man who refuses to shower with any regularity? A herd of water buffalo could have cleaned themselves at the watering hole without making such a mess.

Hair Hell

Good news! A miracle in the bathroom-The toilet paper was put on the roller-without parental intervention. However, the new 4-pack placed on the counter 2 days ago is still sitting there waiting to be put away-Ah, Bliss-You are a fleeting spirit! Yesterday, I bravely ventured into the kids’ bathroom to investigate rumors of a clogged sink. Sure enough, there sat the sink half filled with what resembled the Witches’ brew from Macbeth. Without the benefit of tools of any kind, I was able to clear the drain of the accumulated hairball the size of a tasty rat for our  four cats. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror, or more accurately, attempted to view myself in the mirror. These teenagers own numerous instruments and supplies for primping themselves in the morning before school: combs, brushes, curling irons, hair dryers, crimping irons, hair straighteners, mousses, gels, etc. Call me crazy, but if you’re going to spend your time with all these products doing your hair, would it not seem somewhat logical to clean the mirror enough to actually see what you’re doing to your hair? This only proves my point from the other day regarding proper toothpaste-spitting technique. It’s all connected kids in a Zen-like fashion. If cleanliness is next to Godliness, a teenager ‘s bathroom is in Dante’s seventh circle of Hell.  Tomorrow’s subject….hand washing.

Let the Good Times Roll–

“Once more, unto the breach–” the black hole that my GF and I call the kid’s bathroom. Personally, I wouldn’t let my dog enter that realm for fear he might go for a drink of water only to become violently ill. Not to worry, I think my dog is smarter than that. His nose knows not to go in there! Today, I discuss proper toilet etiquette. First of all, why can’t these kids change a roll of toilet paper when it is empty? Instead, they get out the fresh roll, use some, and leave the new roll on the floor. I could understand if the old roll had to be jettisoned in the trash across the room, and they actually had to get off their ass to throw it out, but NOOOOO-the waste basket is right there under the roller! Isn’t it easier to change out the roll than to have to stretch across the floor, unravel the necessary number of squares, and then reach back down to the floor with the roll? And what if multiple wipes are needed? The whole drawn-out process begins again. No wonder they can’t get to school on time. Am I missing something here? There is a good reason why every domicile in America has  the roller feature–they work!

Bathroom Wars: The Phlegmpire Strikes Back

Why can’t teenagers clean their own bathroom? The last time I checked, chrome is silver, right?  Not the  combination of rainbow-colored spit from Aqua-Fresh toothpaste that accumulates through the weeks. I hear them brushing their teeth in the morning and spitting from what must be at least six feet away from the sink, judging from the amount of toothpaste EVERYWHERE! And the sound…I’ve heard smokers and TB sufferers hacking up a lung make less noise. Well, perhaps I should count my blessings and be happy that they at least brush their teeth.