Liz and I are being put up at Hotel Pulitzer while we look for an apartment. It’s a Starwood Luxury Hotel. We’re pretty big deals. Luckily we aren’t Dutch-sized big deals because there’s no chance locals would fit in the room. Calling it quaint is a lit, it’s just tiny.
Okay, maybe its not that small under normal circumstances, but we have seven suitcases, a cat, and my neurosis. Speaking of neurosis, the floor shouldn’t creak for €250 a night. If I’m getting Scooby-Doo haunted house noises, I better get madcap hijinx and a man in a plastic mask too. I’ve seen no Benny Hill hallway shenanigans and the Dutch bellhops don’t look suspicious at all. Every little movement in the room is deafening; we live in a 12×12 echo chamber.
Everytime I get out of bed, I have an anxiety attack about waking up Liz. I’ve learned the particularly onerous spots on the floor. I’ve gotten NASCAR pit-stop fast at making my daily museli and yogurt breakfast. Euro Shopper Crunchy Museli comes in such impossibly loud packaging that it regularly startles me, and I’m the one holding it. There may also be a hidden boom mic near the toilet, and there’s so little water that any peeing makes a racket. So, in truly manly fashion, I’ll sit down to take my morning piss.
Let’s discuss the pros and cons of sitting to pee. I certainly feel a little less masculine. On the otherhand, I feel more feminine. Bad point. Both cons. Sitting means no aiming issues and I don’t have to worry about losing control with the mysterious dual-stream pee. No more bracing myself because I’m too tired to stand up responsibly and I get to take a little rest. But, I lose out on the gratifying sound that standing and peeing makes. No longer do I have to shake afterwards, but that just means you might learn you weren’t quite finished when you stand up.
So this morning I wake up in typically groggy fashion and spend ten minutes fiddling with the bathroom light. No light. Why close the door? Stupidity. And I like a challenge. I lift up the seat cover and sit. Balls! I lifted to seat too. My lower back twinges and I thump my ass on the porcelain ring. Well-played toilet. Thankfully the toilet water is so low that ball splashing is out of the question. Ego bruised and manliness out of tact, my pee is whisper quiet and Liz keeps sleeping.
You may have won this round, toilet, but the war will be mine, hotel room.