If you like to go thrifting, and your hunting and pecking takes you to the book section, which is just across from the public bathroom, take a deep breath about five minutes prior and hold it for the duration of your stay. In case of pass-out, be sure to wear a med alert bracelet requesting Do Not Resuscitate until your body is cleared from the bathroom fume dispersion zone.
If one of your children cannot wait an hour to visit another bathroom despite your
threats of abandonment fervent and robust pleas, take previously-mentioned deep breath and hold hand over your eyes as you airlift your child into the restroom and hover them over the seat, all the time beseeching God that you or your children do not contract diphtheria with a dysentery chaser.
Do not contemplate opportunistic stray pubes that may have attached to your clothing or person.
And please, I beg you, don’t ever look at the plunger that rests plunge side up just outside the door.
If a man hurtles over the glazed Nativity set and Baby Jesus on special to reach you in the corner of yet another thrift store, do not look up. Fake a voluminous dysentery attack. Under no circumstances say hello. If you are in the least bit friendly or acknowledging of his presence, he will follow you around the store. He will look at the little pink shirt in your hand and say things like, “If your daughter is pretty like you, she’s lucky.”
Do not wonder why he finds you approachable as you look like a hobo. No DO wonder. It’s BECAUSE you look like a hobo. It is because he is a hobo and wants a hobo bride. Start talking crazy. No don’t! He likes that. He will wait by the exit until you leave. At this point, give Good Will employees desperate looks. Stop and look at the obsolete mini iPod crystal cases and do not think that this is probably the man who stunk up the bathroom in the other place.
Wait him out. Do not panic when his car (but isn’t he a hobo? what’s with the transportation? do not speculate that he is part of an elite hobo car crime syndicate/sex trafficker ring) is right behind yours as you leave. Do not think that he is scribbling down your license plate number. Do not call your dad who lives 200 miles away and tell him that a hobo is on your tail.
Lose the hobo in a frozen yogurt shop parking lot. Call your dad back. Encourage him to turn off the 405 Freeway and head back home.
It’s been a long day. Go ahead and order the full-fat peanut butter with chocolate chip cookie dough. Do not draw parallels between the chocolate chips and the plunger.
I said don’t.