Occupied:A Toilet Paper Manifesto

          Of all the rooms in a house, the bathroom ought to be the most private and personalized room a person has. The bathroom is an intimate space. It's a place where man enters to be his most vulnerable self. It is there that he cleans, grooms, and takes care of his body and all of its functions. In an ideal world, the bathroom is man’s fortress of solitude. Yet, for twenty two years, I have never had a bathroom to myself. For twenty two years I have had to share this sacred space with more people than I ever would have liked. 

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           For the majority of my life I shared a bathroom with my sister. For the sake of space, I can summarize this period of bathroom sharing with one word: hair. In the shower, around the sink, on the floor, there was no escaping the strands of my sister's hair. A thin film of hairspray also seemed to perpetually coat the walls, sink, and mirror. Our bathroom was my least favorite room in the house, yet ironically enough, it was home to so many landmark moments in my life. It was there that I got ready for my first date. It was there that I first shaved. It was there that my sister’s friend walked in on me while looking for a hairdryer. Needless to say, I was happy to leave the nest and close that chapter of my bathroom life.

 

           The victory was short-lived. In the dorms during my first semester of college, I shared a locker room style bathroom and shower room with a whole hallway of boys. A whole hallway of them. The dorm bathrooms were a far cry from a private space. Superman never had to share the fortress of solitude with the rest of the justice league. Why did I? The next four years of my life were no different. Regardless of where I was living, the bathroom situation was always the same. Whether I was living in a house off campus or a missionary apartment in Ukraine I seemed to always find myself getting my socks wet as I walk into the bathroom after a roommate just finished taking a shower and then having to sit on a toilet that feels like it just got out of a steaming dishwasher. I always seemed to find myself fighting the urge to start a fight over the toothpaste that I knew my roommates were stealing from me. I always seemed to find myself wishing for the day when I could have a bathroom that I could call my own.

 

           I don’t foresee myself having a completely private bathroom anytime soon. Even the prospect of owning my own home filled with my future wife and children offers little solace. For the time being all I can do is relish the fleeting moments of bathroom privacy that I periodically get to enjoy: the extremely clean bathroom at my work that you need a key to get into and the guest bathroom in my parents house that I get to take over whenever I visit.  

 

           They say no man is an island. But if I could find an island that's just me, a toilet, and some two-ply that would be alright with me.