I had an epiphany yesterday.
I am probably shooting myself in the foot with my bathroom fear because I'm spending WAY too much time in there, trying to mentally prep myself for the task at hand.
First, I either foot-push or middle-finger-push the door open slowly, scanning the floor and walls and ceiling for geckos or spiders. Then I step into the stall slowly, slowly, slowly, turning sideways to make myself skinny! so I don't touch anything. I look around again for creepy crawleys. Then I use a piece of my kleenex to lift the lid in a Western-syle toilet to check for spiders, bugs, rats under the seat. Then I step from left foot to right foot, mustering courage to begin the process. My hands are usually in the air in front of me, or at my sides, waving slightly. I breathe in and out, slowly. Then I usually make sure my camera, wallet, purse, sunglasses are secured before I unzip my pants and slowly, slowly turn around.
The epiphany is this: Why not hurry up, pee and get the heck out of there?!
because that's how you get bit on the butt by a gigantic spider and spend three days in a Thai hospital with a watermelon sized boil on your behind. You're doing it right. Don't change a thing.
Kady, I just cleaned the toilets, you can come home now.
So that's were Hanna gets it!
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