The Busiest Room In The House.

There is a code observed by most civilized societies that closed doors mean stay out. I learned this from my Mother who seems to have forgotten the lessons she gave. This weekend has been a parade of embarrassing encounters around the necessary room. On Saturday Ma entered while I was showering. This started the bathroom invasion. Why Ma has stopped observing the closed door knocking etiquette mystifies me. I have had to start locking the door. There have been one-half dozen incursions while I have been in some embarrassing state of personal vulnerability. The knocks on the locked door have become irritating as my privacy is compromised. One time is a mistake, two times an annoyance, but six times is an invasion. I can understand why Ma feels this is her own private space as she spent enough time in there in the last 10 days to use 28 rolls of TP. 28,000 sheets of single ply comfort is a hard habit to break. I am afraid that if I bought Charmin ultra soft the bathroom would be forever lost to me. The idea of taking Navy baths in the kitchen sink and driving around at night looking for a filling station to take care of my own personal needs leaves me a little cold.