Gross ...

As I age, even though I am still 21, I am noticing certain "quirks" about myself.  I call them "quirks" because to come right out and call them Obsessive Compulsive Disorder just sounds crazy ... and that's not right.  So, these quirks ... when I turned 30 (even though I am 21), I decided I hated iceburg lettuce, I had always hated iceburg lettuce, and I saw no reason to ever eat it again.  I even questioned why all these years I had eaten iceburg lettuce trying to convince myself I was being healthy.  So, I stopped eating iceburg lettuce.  Another quirk ... public pools.  A number of years ago I watched some 20/20 or Dateline or other new show that talked about public pools.  After their examination of the "oh so clean from the chlorine" water, they came up a bit short.  After all, a poopie diaper is a poopie diaper and no amount of chlorine will kill off that stank ... I wish the chlorine would kill off the parents that stick their kids in the water with said poopie diaper.  A short time later, I see a newscast telling everyone that public pools are sucking kids down into the bottom of the pool through the super filter systems used to suck out said poopie floaters.  So, gross water and possible drowning.  I now look at pools and say, "this thing is full of pee, and I will not swim in a toilet.  "I have a literal visceral response, and have not entered a public pool since .. even a water park ... still full of pee.  Being the mom of three boys, they love the waterparks and I have to admit Jon does more than his fair share of swimming in the pee wter as I sit poolside working on my sunburn. Final (okay there are many more, but I am only focusing on these few) quirk ... germs.  Yes, this quirk does borderline OCD, but I don't like to call it that, becasue, again, that's jut crazy talk.  My fear of germs has led me to hand sanitizing (not like 30 times a day or anything, but it's sitting at the front door for any carrier monkey that enters my home, aka, my children's friends.)  I also love the smell of bleach, it's sick, I know, but it means clean.
A few days ago, our family set off on a 7 hour pilgrimage from Colorado to Utah.  We're celebrating the holidays with my WHOLE family.  The drive is, uh, possibly the most boring drive on the face of the United States.  It's miles and miles of flat land with occasional tumble weeds or juniper bushes.  Occasionally you run into a "town", aptly named town only because it has a gas station and sometimes a restraunt inside gas station where food poisioning is inevitable.  Since the drive is so entertaining, we try to stop as little as possible for as small a time as possible.  We stopped twice this trip.  First, to get food poisioning, second to get gas and do an emergency potty stop.  I'm not even going to attempt to describe the gas station bathroom, because anyone that has ever traveled knows they are a thing of nasty wonder.  I learned long ago the skill of squatting and "hovering" lest my derrier touch the most disgusting toilet seat known to the free world.  I took Bradyn with me into the bathroom, first shift of children.  I squatted and hovered.  I noticed that the back of the toiled was resting next to the toilet bowl, and it was an extra special treat to peer inside the blackness of the BACK of the nasty gast station bathroom toilet.  SO, I squat, I hover, and unlike most who take care of their "business" in a gas station potty, I flushed.  (Side note, flush the damned toilet.  For hell's sake, I don't care where you are, thyat's just lazu to not flush the toilet!)  As I flushed I realized this toilet was not flushing.  I peered into the blackness of the back of the bowl and realized the little chain was not attached to the stopper/valve thingy.  I'm no plumber, but I know that chain has to be attached.  Hmmmm. so in an attempt to be a nice human being, I looked around for something to get the murky black water out of the back of the toilet, to face my fears, and reattach the chain so I could flush the toilet.  Ah, there it was.  An errant giant Mountain Dew cup.  As Bradyn looked at me, I took a deep breath, and took out scoop number one of water.  Okay, managed to not touch murky black water and I dumped it into the sink.  Time for scoop two, I turned around and all hell broke loose.  Okay, not hell, but some little valve or something from the back of the toilet that was possesed by the devil himself and started spewing out pee pee toilet water like a hose with two much water pressure.  Bradyn hovered behind me and in a moment of sheer mother bear protection I put both hands in front of my face and faced the beast (aka, valve/hose thing spraying high powered pee pee water all vover the bathroom).  I managed to wrestle it back into position and then just sort of stood there.  I was soaked in pee pee water, there was no chlorine, and this was the most vile of all bathrooms ... the gas station bathroom.  I started desperately grabbing the brown rough, resembles a cheap thin paper bag towlets and wiping off my face, my hands, my hair, everything.  It was useless.  I looked at Bradyn, said, go to the bathroom!  He dutifully did his thing, and we left the bathroom.  I looked like  drowned rat and explained to the gas station attendant the situation.  Jon walked in at that point and started laughing.  It wasn't funny.  The gas station attendant was trying to be kind, but he soon fell victim to laughing at me as well.  I told them to both bite my ass, and left for the truck.  I think I might have flashbacks for the rest of my life.  I had to pee again in the next 4 hours ... and I held it.  There was no way in hell I was going to enter a gas station bathroom again.  I'm thinking if I cut off all liquids 12 hours before the trip home, I can make the 8 hours until we get home to Colorado.