Public Bathroom

So I just got off the phone with Moo. She's moved from Lake Champlain into downtown Middlebury and will be starting work at a new practice in January. She needed advice on baking and on men. I helped her out with both.

Then we got into the odd quirk in my personality that causes people to spill their deepest (and sometimes darkest) secrets to me, after not having known me very long at all. Usually what I'll hear is "I can't believe I'm telling you this." I then say "Oh you don't have to tell me." And sometimes I wish they wouldn't. It's hard sometimes to be a secret repository.

Moo, scatalogical creature that she is (she talked to me about how Tess the Wonder hound was running around busy downtown Middlebury with a turtle head), likened me to, well, a public toilet, where people make secretive, smelly deposits. Then we decided together I'm not any old public toilet, I'm more like the grand handicapped stall that has a sink in it, or the separate "family" restroom that is a room all its own, separate from the main bathroom. Because you feel safe leaving your unpleasantness there.

If there's a contest out there for unpleasant analogies I think this one should win first prize.

(And as a side note to my friends, I'm not talking about you guys.)