Snot unusual

For about a week now, there's been a booger stuck to the wall behind the urinal in the men's john at work.

The continued presence of this booger is raising some serious questions about the thoroughness of cleaning that goes on in this washroom. But that's beside the point.

Also beside the point: I had originally intended this post to be a rant about the kind of guy who feels it necessary to mine his nose and leave a little memento of his washroom visit with one hand while he's pissing with the other. (And if you happen to be female, dear reader, you should know that this kind of guy isn't a rare breed by any means. In fact, you've probably dated someone who has done this after excusing himself during dinner with you at a nice restaurant.)

But my anger, like the booger itself, is a good deal less fresh than it was a week ago. So I guess the point is how the effect something like a bathroom booger has on you can change if given enough time.

In my case, the effect went from initial revulsion to anger, to a mild amusement, to a kind of weary resignation. And lately, something more like relief. Day after day, I come in to find it still there, clinging reliably to the white tile like a tiny green dragon scale. (Right at nose level, I might add.) At this point, it's become a kind of comfort, an essential part of the going-to-the-can ritual. Toilet paper? Check. Hand soap? Check. Booger on the wall? Check.

I think the booger on the wall has given me a glimmer of insight into those people who can't stand to throw anything away, even when the house is crammed to bursting with fetid laundry, moldy food and stale catshit. Leave it long enough, and it can start to feel like it was never not there.