Pet Peeve Post... GRRRRRR...
Saturday, February 03, 2007
"What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say."- Ralph Waldo Emerson
So this morning I woke up early and did what had to be done--I went to the bathroom. Living in a dorm situation is interesting at best, but I like the convenience and intimacy of the cube-style dorm living. The entrance opens up to a hallway where the entrances to the dorm rooms are located. There are nine rooms--8 double-occupancy and a single-occupancy--along with the bathroom, but only 12 women occupy the rooms (and you don't want to know how long it took me to figure that out--ick).
I digress. Last night, I met one of the women in the bathroom. She put a sign on the bathroom door that basically told the other women to wash their hands. We chuckled, cringed then moved on with our lives. This morning I see someone's comments added at the bottom:
"God created my hands and they are clean. I do not need to wash them."
I wanted to cry. I wanted to lie out on the cold, bare bathroom floor and cry. Then I wanted to hurl. I wanted to hurl a big, fat, honking rock upside the head of the woman who wrote it. Instead, I washed my hands, went to my room and found a sword of choice: a medium-point Sharpie. (For those of you who don't know, [as if millions of people read what I write--yeesh] a Sharpie is a permanent ink felt-tip marker.) I turned to the sign behind the bathroom door and wrote:
"And the devil is out there. WASH YOUR HANDS!"
I'll report on this as developments happen. In fact, I wrote an op/ed on it that I may submit to the school paper. I may put it here.
So this morning I woke up early and did what had to be done--I went to the bathroom. Living in a dorm situation is interesting at best, but I like the convenience and intimacy of the cube-style dorm living. The entrance opens up to a hallway where the entrances to the dorm rooms are located. There are nine rooms--8 double-occupancy and a single-occupancy--along with the bathroom, but only 12 women occupy the rooms (and you don't want to know how long it took me to figure that out--ick).
I digress. Last night, I met one of the women in the bathroom. She put a sign on the bathroom door that basically told the other women to wash their hands. We chuckled, cringed then moved on with our lives. This morning I see someone's comments added at the bottom:
"God created my hands and they are clean. I do not need to wash them."
I wanted to cry. I wanted to lie out on the cold, bare bathroom floor and cry. Then I wanted to hurl. I wanted to hurl a big, fat, honking rock upside the head of the woman who wrote it. Instead, I washed my hands, went to my room and found a sword of choice: a medium-point Sharpie. (For those of you who don't know, [as if millions of people read what I write--yeesh] a Sharpie is a permanent ink felt-tip marker.) I turned to the sign behind the bathroom door and wrote:
"And the devil is out there. WASH YOUR HANDS!"
I'll report on this as developments happen. In fact, I wrote an op/ed on it that I may submit to the school paper. I may put it here.
Labels: My Opinion, Prose, Thoughts
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