I feel like Adrian Monk.
Now if any of my sisters ... or the Wife ... or the children ... read that, they'd laugh. Because they know just how much I am not like Adrian Monk.
Oh, I got my quirks, but I'm not always going around asking for wipes. Nor am I afraid of milk. So, no, I'm not like Adrian Monk.
But I think I might be coming down with whatever he's got.
And you might, too, after reading this.
I don't use public restrooms a lot. But it's inevitable that I use them from time to time.
Whether it's at work, at a ballgame, on a trip ... there comes a time that I must use the restroom. And something happened the other day that gave me pause.
I was ... somewhere ... and I had just brushed my teeth after a meal. I heard someone ... finishing up ... at a urinal. As I completed my routine, I noticed the person leaving the urninal and headed ... to the door.
Of course, that happens all the time. So, it wasn't that unusual. What are you gonna do.
So, after I put away my stuff, I went to the door and reached for the handle.
The same handle that Mr. Urinates-But-Doesn't-Wash-His-Hands-Afterwards had used. With those hands.
The hands that had just been used to aim Mr. Willy at the deodorant cake in the urinal.
And here I was, inches away from grabbing the door handle. The urine-stained, Mr. Willy-stained door handle.
I turned around and went to the paper towel dispenser, grabbed a paper towel, and used it to open the door.
Just like Mr. Monk would do.
Now, I keep a paper towel in my pocket, just in case I end up at a restroom that uses those horrible air dryers. Regardless, I use a paper towel to open the door handle to the men's room.
Anyway, I don't really think I'm turning in to Adrian Monk. But he's got the right idea about some things.
Oh, by the way. Anyone know where I can buy some Sierra Springs water? Or some Lever 2000 wipes?