It’s kind of my life work to be remembered when I’m gone. I told my niece that I want to be the photo bomb in her stash of Polaroid memories. A little creepy? Perhaps. But being memorable takes a lot of work. Sometimes you just don’t know when a Pavlov trigger is planted. Sometimes you have little control over the associations that bring you to mind. Oh shucks.
I can’t remember why I started referring to public restrooms as “facilities.” I’m sure I thought I was being clever. All I know is I’ve been using or looking for the “facilities” for many years.
Apparently some of my associations over the years have thought my vocabulary quaint. Some old acquaintances have mentioned that when they think of restrooms they think of the word facilities. And when they think of facilities they think of me. Yay for being remembered! My master plan is working.
It’s a bit unfortunate that I’m associated with some of the filthiest places around. But at least I am being thought of. I’ll take it.