Paranoia From The Toilet

I am trapped on the toilet because the coffee I drank encouraged my body to grant ten seconds of warning before assplosion.

And then the doorbell rings.

I’m not expecting anyone, but I feel the pressure of someone standing just down the hallway impatiently waiting for me to answer the door. I also feel the pressure of what looks to be another ten minutes of bathroom time.

Of course, I have my fifth appendage with me, my iPhone, so I call Scott to see if it’s him just being lazy. Or maybe needing my help. But probably lazy.

Scott: I’m still at the grocery store.

Me: I just didn’t want you to think that I was ignoring you. I’m stuck in the bathroom.

Scott: Well, don’t answer the door because there’s been a series of break-ins in our neighborhood.

Me: Um, did you lock it?

Scott: Yup.

Me: Okay, hopefully, by the time they break down the door, I’ll have stopped crapping myself.

Scott: Gotta go.

Me: Wait! I’m nervous now! (also, will never get off the toilet now)

But Scott already hung up. Then the doorbell rings again.

I think: Who rings the doorbell twice? Robbers casing the house, that’s who.

I finally break free of my porcelain perch and sneak into the kitchen because I don’t want to get caught by the doorbell ringer. Even if it’s NOT a bad guy, my only excuse for not answering the door is my butt. Not exactly a neighborly conversation.

I tiptoe past the refrigerator and catch the attention of my cat whose frantic meowing at the back door could be a dead giveaway for my whereabouts. I inch closer to the door, but I notice that Loki keeps getting distracted by something to his left. Well, I’ve seen THIS MOVIE before. The cat is going to have to open his OWN door. Also, now my phone is one click away from 9-1-1.

I go into recognizance mode and begin noting whether my fence, which surrounds the perimeter of the backyard, is secure and if all entrances to my home are in lock down. I continue to patrol the house by popping up my head just above the windowsill at specific points throughout my downstairs.

I may or may not have army-crawled to the second floor and with bare-flicker of my shutters, I assess the front yard and spy THE PESTMASTER TRUCK

I call Scott AGAIN to see if he had scheduled a visit by Mr. Ring-The-Doorbell-Eight-Times-Bug-Man because otherwise, the truck is a great cover for stealing my stuff. I’m totally cracking this case WIDE OPEN.

Scott: I didn’t schedule them BUT they may have called me five times this week TO schedule a visit.

Me: Oh.

But I still have to wait upstairs until the the robber-turned-bug-killer is gone.

Because even if he is on my side, I don’t want to discuss my butt with him.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

30 thoughts to “Paranoia From The Toilet”

  1. I find this post amusing. But I also picture you trailing three feet of buttwipe from your sexy sweatpants as you creep and army crawl. Statistically speaking, most people who ring your doorbell are not serial killers or robbers. The numbers are slightly higher in Maryland of course.

    Have you got the shotguns yet?

  2. It is very hard for me to avoid the doorbell. All our main floor windows look out the front. But sometimes I do. Just sit in the chair and avoid eye contact. Especially when it’s some kind of marketing craziness. I always open the door for neighbours canvassing for a charity.

  3. That’s both funny AND scary. I had a similar experience once when I was home alone with newborn Allie. A strange car pulled into our driveway & rang the doorbell. When I opened it he said he was there about “the car for sale” at which point I freaked out b/c we didn’t HAVE a car for sale and was this just the line he used right before he stuffed an ether soaked rag in my face. Our dog (who is the most mild mannered lab in the world) must have sensed my uneasiness and charged at the door barking & growling, causing Mr. Car For Sale Rapist to back off the front steps. I told him he had the wrong house & locked the door. SO freaking scary!!! And I wasn’t even on the toilet, lol!

  4. A girl’s gotta something sacred! Lord knows after childbirth, that type of modesty is forever gone.

    Protect your butt with everything you have. 🙂

  5. Hilarious! I have to admit, I don’t usually answer the door when I’m home alone. I peek outside and see if it’s someone I know or if it’s maybe a delivery I’m expecting…otherwise, the visitor gets no response. But one time, I opened the first door (you have to go through two doors to get outside and the outside one is made of heavy wood/glass) to a woman living in the apartment building next door. She thought I was a bitch for talking to her through the door b/c she wanted to retrieve her dog’s frisbee from our backyard – “Go on ahead, but I am not opening this door (you crazy psycho woman who might rob or kill me…but not likely).” lol Now, if I do answer the door, it’s either with my phone or the remote panic button to our alarm service in hand. Ha!

  6. Why must all pressing things happen one when parked on the toilet? That is not a time for rushing.

    I remember trying to have A Moment mere days after childbirth (how about a heads-up on the horror of THAT, Lamaze Lady) while Ezra proceeded to get very pissy about being hungry. So, I nursed him while I sat on the toilet while some guy roamed about downstairs cleaning our new furnace vents. And then asked me a question through the bathroom door.

    It was all very demoralizing.

  7. But this is what I love about coffee! Because I am like a geriatric, all concerned with my regularity. I get very bent out of shape if nature does not call on me before I leave the house each morning. And I’m not gonna beg- i like to get int here, and get out. Once I’m ready, I’m READY.

  8. One second thought, the Bug truck is suspicious. Remember the Pest Man Truck from Men in Black. You don’t want to answer the door if it might be a skin covered alien bug assassin from Beta Reticuli Six.

    Can I hear a “Yeah Huh?” from the crowd?

    1. word.
      very good call.
      but even Alex could cook him up some SUGAR annnnnnnd WATER to avoid death.
      (I hear she made actual from-scratch cookies last week…)

  9. You do realize you help the rest of us discover we’re not the freaks we think we are, right? I wig out when the doorbell rings, and if I’m on the toilet then I triple wig. I have stood at the front door, looking out the peephole and then pressing myself flat against the door when I don’t recognize the person. I wait quietly, heart pounding, until they go away. Last year the poor census guy must’ve come by 3x while I hid against the door until he finally left me a phone number and I phoned in my data.

  10. My husband knocks on doors to sell jobs for his tree business (not 80,000 times though, just once!) and always says that he can tell when someone is home but not answering.

    I wouldn’t answer though. If some guy I didn’t know was knocking on my door. When I tell him that, for some reason, it seems to offend him. lol

  11. wait, whoa there – no one has yet commented on the true question here –

    why can’t a mom have an uninterrupted moment in the bathroom… EVER?
    serioiusly, even when her kids AREN’T HOME ???!!???

  12. This is so funny. I do the same thing. I’m totally paranoid about stuff. I love that you used the word assplosion. That will make it into my dictionary for sure. Following you via RSS now

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