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Non-fiction

Who Calls BS?

I’m tired.

I should be reviewing a paper, but I needed to write out my irritation for a minute.

Irresistable Shares: Saturday Self-Portraits

Anglerfish level irritation afoot.

I just saw a post from our local neighborhood website and the issue du jour is same-sex bathrooms in elementary school.

I call BS. Right now.

Maybe this parent is too young to remember toilets in Kindergarten classrooms, but a thousand years ago when I was in K-grade, there were bathrooms in some of the classrooms. Boys went in there, girls went in there. When there were multiple stalls and multiple little folk needed to tinkle, guess what? (whispering …) Sometimes, boys and girls were in there at the same time!

Gasp, shock, horror! It’s the end of the world as we know it! Corruption of the baby generation! Who’s going to save the children?! Et cetera.

Can I just say again, I call BS and more importantly, can people just toilet in peace?

Even in a women-only bathroom, I’m not looking to see what my neighbor is doing. I’m in there, trynta get my own business handled. If there happened to be a dude at a urinal or a trans woman on her way into a stall, I’d say in my mind, ‘Handle your business — I’m about to handle mine’ (or, ‘I hope the stall I just picked isn’t totally gross’, which is much more likely).

Can we find something else more important to be jumping up and down about?

Oh! I’ve got it! Today is my Woola’s birthday — that makes up for the anglerfish level irritation. And to celebrate, here’s another baby photo (see my AR Neal Facebook feed for more of his lovely mug) of my handsome little fruit bat for your enjoyment:

 

woolababy1

Now you know that makes everything better …

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