Bathmats and barfing
What is it about a bathmat that makes it a perfect target for vomit? Is it the little tufts of yarn that scream out, “Spew on me, I’m inpossible to clean!” or the fact that they tend to be positioned within close proximity to the toilet, the logical place to yak? I ask this because for some reason, there are no bathmats left in this apartment, despite having started out with at least three when I moved in.
Victim #1
You were pale blue, filthy, flattened by wet feet, and got caught on the door stop. Your position in front of the toilet/next to the tub/in front of the door made for disgustingly wet surprises at any given time of the day. I disliked you and avoided stepping at you, but you served somewhat of a purpose, you absorbed the blow of Jacob’s barf and quietly disappeared.
Victim #2
I liked you because you were fobby and had sheep on you. You survived my first college apartment, my post-college apartment, and I liked you so much that I made room for you in my “I’m not in college but my apartment screams out ‘college’” apartment. I was saddened when you fell victim to Jackie’s binge drinking of Bud Light, and saw my sheep mat get stuffed into a plastic bag which sat on the porch for weeks before finally getting thrown out. I won’t forget you, namely because your rubber underside is still stuck to several tiles of our bathroom floor.
Victim #3
You were definitely my favorite - red, fluffy, and safe from bathroom filth. I thought you’d be a survivor and even considered sacrificing you by bringing you from the kitchen to the bathroom. Looking back, I wish I had. Alas, you too have joined bathmat heaven as you died when our kitchen sink backed up and threw up after the upstairs neighbors clogged their disposal with Thanksgiving grease. This caused filthy water to fill up the sink, spread over the counters, and drip onto the floors, carpets, and your might red self where it sat and grew mold over the course of several days while we were out of town, foolishly thinking our bathmats were out of harm’s reach.
For all you would be barfers out there, PLEASE, aim anywhere but down there, for there is much to be mourned in a bathmatless bathroom, especially when your roommate refuses to towel off after showering thereby leaving hazardous puddles (with loose strands of hair) on the sadly barren floors.
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