Would you believe me if I told you:

Maddox and Brian had just gotten back from trick or treating, I was busy catching up with a friend I hadn't seen in a while...When our conversations and candy counting were interrupted with a rapt at the door, not surprising as it is Halloween and we were expecting some ghouls and goblins to come a knocking.

I open it to find a neighborhood family, including an old school mate of Madison's. This family is... well... let's see... nicely put and hopefully PC too... different. Over the years we have supported fund raisers and engaged in very happy conversations with the girls. Tonight the girls had brought big brother and dad along their trick or treating trek; they were on their way home and had to stop by our house, but not for a treat... this time the trick was on us...

In addition to the saying of the season, we were politely asked if their dad could use our restroom. "What could be the harm?" I thought... as I allowed them into our home.

As we stood and entertained a conversation that lapsed well into the awkward duration to cover the obvious nature of business happening behind the closed door at the back of the hall, I couldn't help but think of all the harm actually occurring in my bathroom.

My friend and her daughter politely excused them selves from the stalemate happening in my water closet, and upon exit gave me the "Oh, man this really sucks to be you" look, while I returned it with a "BRING ME LYSOL" look.

Still we waited, sorting candy, talking about costumes, I even provided refreshments! (Not to sir squatter, but to the kids.) One after another each of the visiting children wandered down our hall to check on the status of dear ol dad... "I'll be out in a minute." "Just finishing up." "I'm almost done."

I could take it no longer! Just the thought of having to see this man face to face after... you know...that, I excused my self to the kitchen to clean up dinner figuring surely he would exit and I would evade the pleasantries of their good byes... but no... just as I finish the kitchen task and have nothing else to do... he emerges. Puts on his coat, thanks us for the use of our facilities, and they all leave...not in the scurried "hide your face I'm so embarrassed" fashion, but as if nothing out of the realm of normal had just occurred.

There we stand, stunned, not sure what to say, staring at each other. A game of Rock Paper Scissors to see who is laden with the task of lighting a candle and checking the state of our porcelain perch.

Thankfully my friend had understood the dire circumstances we were in and returned with the greatest gift:


Brian braves the unknown, complete with the hazmat work gloves and bathroom cleaner, shirt pulled up over his nose and mouth. As he opens the door and steps inside, he turns, eyes meeting mine, and I know that I will owe him eternally.

I am now faced with quite the quandary... If it was this bad for us... how much worse it must be for him, the bathroom borrower?

Learned? If you begin with the thought "what's the harm"...it probably isn't a good idea to continue.