10 August 2015
0 the loo
i am in paris, squirreled away in a teeny garret in the top floor of an 8 floor walkup in bastille. the point of my being here is to produce as much of a draft of the critical portion of my dissertation as is humanely possible over the course of 7 days. très très bon, très très belle, très très chic.
slight wrinkle: the loo is on the landing. it is also shared, but this is of minor importance as the dude it's shared with seems to be away, it being paris in august and all. the location of the loo on the landing is something i was aware of going into this whole arrangement. what i was not aware of was the vagaries of the loo itself.
imagine, if you will, a toilet.
now, imagine a closet no bigger than a toilet plus the length of your feet.
then, put the toilet you've imagined in that closet, equip the closet with a motion sensor powered light placed approximately 3 inches beyond the area wherein motion occurs, put a challenging yet not impossible lock on the door, and place the closet immediately at the top and to the left of a precipitously steep flight of stairs.
what this creates is a situation where, when the occupant engages in the full-body twist required to summon the force to pry open the lock, he or she confronts the very real possibility of hurling head-first from the loo down the stairs.
that is the situation. it is now my great fear that i will die in paris, in my pajamas, clinging to a roll of toilet paper for dear life. mon dieu!