I really don't care what kind of music they play...

We know each other pretty well, don't we? I mean...we're tight? Because today I'm going to discuss something pretty personal, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. That's just not my style.

Now I'm not really sure any subject can be considered too personal these days with television commercials hyping everything from...well....you know...female monthly stuff to erectile dysfunction pills and gadgets. There's even those toilet paper ads with the cartoon bears and paper stuck to their behinds. Come on!  Do I really need to see that?!

Which somewhat brings me to my subject matter today. Due to work circumstance, I was late getting home and missed church last night. Okay. Not the full story...

It's well documented we are creatures of habit, and I could easily be Exhibit A for that hypothesis. When I come home from work, I move my way through the greeting hugs and kisses, ceremonial small talk and straight to a personal asylum...my bathroom.

The possessive pronoun is pivotal here.

 Did I have time to sprint home in a mad dash and still make it to church? I'm sure that was possible but would also have likely resulted in doing something I haven't done since around 1977...and that's use a public restroom to...well...you know...not number one.

Recent events (or lack thereof) were clearly not in my favor. Despite a regular regiment of oatmeal and fiber tablets, things were just  a little 'off schedule', and the lack of  said activities was demanding a need for movement. Look. I'm a first thing in the morning and immediately after work kind of guy, and I'm at that age where...well...you know...becomes a crucial indicator of one's overall health. A systems check if you will.

I'd like to blame the Marine Corps for my obsession over using the bathroom anywhere besides my home throne, but that wouldn't be exactly accurate. I never, ever did that at the school while in high school. Ever. I remember leaving school one day at the bequest of either bad breakfast sausage or a bad case of nerves resulting from a conversation with...let's call her Katie...and running the half mile to my house to answer the call and back again.

The Corps probably did, however, magnify my demand for private accommodations. There's nothing quite as contemptuous as....well...you know...while looking directly across at five others also...well...you know. There are no doors or stalls at Officer Candidate School.

I won't even attempt explaining a straddle trench when you're in the field. Trust me...not pretty.

Now you're probably wondering why...well...you know...is any different than say showering after football practice in the field house or in needed community situations while in the Corps. Nakedness isn't the problem here. It's just a privacy issue...okay...a hang up with me. It even aggravates the...well...you know...out of me when the Crazy Tomato lingers outside my bathroom door while I'm in occupation. Or is that unoccupied? Anyway, I don't like it! That is my time of solitude and reflection and inevitably where most of my pending novel ideas originate.

Naturally, Mrs. Tony C finds all this quite comical and takes advantage at every opportunity to poke fun. Last night she found humor in going to church and letting people know why I wasn't there. How do I know this? Oh...I got text messages.

From Keith: Now I've heard every excuse for missing church lol.
Tony C response: I seriously doubt that. I can be pretty creative.

I'll spare you the text message conversation with my wife earlier that involved the subject related vernacular prairie dogging... now THAT was funny!

For the record, I don't even...well...you know...in front of Mrs. Tony C either and never will as long as fully capable.  Besides, I'm a lot older than her and figure she'll get plenty enough time to assist me with those needs at some point in the future.

Who's laughing now?