I’m only doing serious business in there once a day, so don’t think I’m some constant toilet sitter.
Two weeks ago, I’m on the toilet and my door gets buzzed. Then knocked. Then I hear “maintenance.”
A complete rush of blood to the head as I hear the door get unlocked and then snapped against my chain lock. My friends always make fun of me for using every lock, but this time it protected me from getting caught.
I hurry up and finish my business and get to the door. The fire inspector is with the maintenance man and needs to take a look around. I totally forgot about it.
Flash forward to five minutes ago.
There I am, minding my own business, reading a book and getting ready for a wipe.
I hear something buzzing around and smacking against my light.
I look up.
It’s a wasp.
Then, it lands on the shower curtain, which is right next to me.
I waddle into the living room with my shorts around my ankles, get my vacuum cleaner and head toward the bathroom.
I turned that sucker on and vacuumed that bugger right into oblivion.
Then, I finished my business.
When a man can’t relieve himself without entering a complete panic mode, the terrorists have already won.
Even the toilet was horrified.
My friend you’ve got one pissed off wasp living in your vacuum.
shua (out)
I know. I plugged up the end of the vacuum with a paper towel just in case it finds its way out. No vacuuming for at least six weeks. Not that I was going to before then, anyway.