A week or so ago, I was driving with Mom in the car. We were coming back from somewhere, discussing the typical mother/son fare. You know, work, family, the new Steak Out we're getting (booyah!), last night's Nancy Grace. And then...
Bone: "I still haven't been to the new Walgreens."
Momma Bone: "You haven't?"
Momma Bone: "I go in there all the time to use the bathroom."
Bone (a bit confused and on the verge of laughter): "What?!"
Momma Bone: "Oh yeah, they've got the nicest bathroom in town."
Yep. Now you know where I get it. Up until that moment, I didn't even know where I got it. We Bones are very particular about our restroom experiences. And one more piece of the puzzle of why I am who I am falls neatly into place.
Actually, that was excellent information. I mean, it's good to know these things. Maybe I should start compiling a list. It could be like those websites that list the cheapest gas in each city. Except mine would list the most exquisite public restrooms.
"And heaven help us always to remember, that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world..."