The highlight of my day so far:
Feeling a lovely breeze on my bare backside while trying to finish my business as MayDay flushed the toilet over and over and over again. Did you know you get a breeze with every flush? Yeah. It's awesome.
When I was little, my (older) cousins Richard and Robert told me all kinds of awful things: a witch lived behind the furnace in my grandparents' house (I still run up ANY basement steps); an old man lived in the toilet and every time I flushed, the doorway through which he could escape and capture me was open (I still refuse to flush while I'm still sitting, although after today I may reconsider, and I usually flush and run); nocturnal snakes lived under my bed and if I got out of bed in the dark, they would wrap around my ankles and suck me underneath to become a part of their scary, snaky realm (I still sleep with my sheets tucked in so tightly that my 6'5" husband's toes curl backwards if he sleeps on his back). They would also convince me and their mother, my favorite aunt Linda, to watch a scary movie, then hide in the woods between my parents' house and my grandparents' and laugh like hyenas when they "Booed" one or both of us into peeing like a toddler in the middle of the driveway.
Those were the good old days. Yes, my tender psyche may have been deeply and unalterably affected by their abominable stories, but we always had a great time. Because we would also take my grandfather's hand-carved walking sticks and use them as guns to hunt for Bigfoot through the rhododendron thicket in front of their house. We would go fishing in the pond with their dad, my favorite uncle Robert. We would hike, and play, and run, and eat strawberries and watermelon in my grandmother's kitchen. We would run all over the mountain playing and chasing the dogs and pretending all manner of things. Great fun.
And to think I stumbled upon all these memories because my son flushed the toilet while I was still sitting on it.