She always tell me to eat stuff because it'll make me "boo-boo." Has said that for as long as I can remember. Makes me sick. Everything she wants me to eat that I don't want to eat, she'll say I should eat because it'll make me "boo-boo." But what if I can shit fine, Grandmother?
So her apparent, um, obsession with human feces may have to do with the stuff I find after she uses the bathroom. Two times the past month or so I've seen some dollops of shit on the bathroom towel we use as a mat. I can't figure out under what circumstances could my Grandmother somehow drop a mini-deuce on the floor, let alone twice. Maybe she was rushed into getting up and answering the phone. I'm just pleased as punch I didn't step onto that shit.
What was a hell of a lot more aggravating, however, was tonight. I woke at 7 this evening after I passed out for a half hour. My father pounding on the wall means that dinner's ready. So I get up, note that I'm feeling a hell of a lot groggier and grumpier than usual (which means I needed some deep sleep bad), and go wash up. With my pupils still dilated and not wearing my glasses, I close the bathroom door behind so I can sit down and piss. But what's that brown mass I see on the bottom of the toilet? Holy shit! It's my Grandmother's bowel movement! She didn't flush!! She didn't flush!!! How the fuck can she not forget to flush?!?!?! AARGH!!!
God, I felt so dirty. I just didn't feel like pissing into a bowl that's already been "used," even though it is the environmental thing to do, but I had to flush that goddamn shit down the drain. And then I still felt dirty so I washed my hands. As I was reaching for the soap, I notice this crumpled piece of toilet paper. Grandmother, did you do this too? And I looked closer -- there were tiny pieces of shit on there too! Ew, you didn't flush and you didn't throw your used toilet paper away? There weren't any skid marks so I don't think she wiped her ass with it ... oh my fucking God, what I am saying?! It doesn't fucking matter?!
I didn't want to touch the "clean" part of this clump of toilet paper, so I went to the toilet roll to get some and use that to grab the paper and throw it into the trash. I peer in (I'm nearsighted) ... and I'll be goddamned, there are traces of shit on the fucking toilet paper roll!!! Fucking Christ Grandma, you don't flush, then you don't throw away your toilet paper, and then you grab the toilet roll with your shit-filled hands -- and not tear off a piece?!?!?! Fuck you, Grandmother, that's just fucking gross!!!! I made sure I didn't touch the shit when I tore off two squares, and I was able to pick up her used toilet paper with it, but to make absolutely sure I washed my hands with soap again.
Oh well, she is in her 80's. Besides, she does have to flush after me when I leave shit on the bottom of the toilet. Ours sucks because it's weak and doesn't flush all the way. It's just that if you looked at what I looked at, Granny just forgot to fuckin' flush. Ew, still gives me chills. ...
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I usually eat slow. It's partially due to the fact that I also tend to eat a lot, especially for dinners that I like, like tonight: chicken bought at the grocery store a mile away. I didn't eat lunch so I chowed down (even though I shouldn't, seeing as I'm getting rilly, rilly fat). I was so late that I didn't finish in time for my father to wash my dishes. I've been trying really hard, but this was the first time in some time where I had to finish up by myself.
Well, not quite. My Grandmother likes to peter around after dinner, sometimes to do things, sometimes just because she's old. Oftentimes when I'm eating after everyone's done, she'll do the dishes. That's just the way she is, and even though I've grown to not trust nor like the way she washes them, I love her for doing it because that's one less chore I have to do -- all the cleaning and potential for getting wet and using dirty dishes to towel off the plates and silverware, ugh.
I finally got done and piled my dishes onto my placemat. Grandmother was in her room. I was watching The Biggest Loser till there was a commercial break. I was still feeling a bit pissy -- not at the shit I saw, but from being woken up from a surprisingly deep sleep. I didn't feel like washing dishes, so I decided to be a bit manipulative and do something I've done a lot of times before: stall and do something else so that my Grandmother would just look at my pile of finished dishes and wash them.
That's when I felt there was food inbetween my teeth. Hell yeah it could've -- should've! -- waited until I got done with the dishes. But I decided to go to my room, find an old spool of dental floss, curse this dental floss because this was the shitty spool where I pull and bend it around that tongue so it'll snap off, but either the tongue is too goddamn strong or the floss is way too shitty and I end up just splicing it into threads, do exactly that, get really angry, and just yank till I apparently pull the rest of the floss out (there wasn't much). I should've looked at the spool to make sure there wasn't floss left inside, but trust me, this fucking dental floss has given me nothing but ineffective trouble every time I used it.
While I was demonizing string, I heard the sound of dishes. Yeah, my Grandmother came out of her bedroom, looked at the dinner table, saw that I was finished, and proceeded to clean up after me. Waiting till she go to the sink, I came out and threw the spool of floss into the wastebasket and offered to do the dishes instead. But I never mean it, because she was going to say she'll do it, and I want her to do it anyway. If I didn't go into my room to floss and did the dishes instead, she wouldn't've stopped me. But I decided to be selfish tonight.
I love my Grandmother. I owe her one. In fact, I owe her a lot for what she's done for me.
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