Crazy Christmas shopping is engulfing nearly all of us.  Most of us are knee deep in traffic issues, parking miracles and queues forced upon us because we didn’t shop months ago like those weird organised people and we somehow thought that this year it might be different.  Even dreaming that there may only  be 3 of us out and about kindly sharing 47 free car spaces between us, instead of the now 3 million New Zealanders  all with their “eye spy gunna kill if you cut me off  and steal my spot” look in their eye, was rather silly of me.  I stupidly braved this yearly phenomenon  a few days ago.   My plan was to start and stop present buying in a single day.  Therefore I would never have to get caught up in anything emotional, hysterical, theatrical, suicidal or dentable.  I planned to go and come back with my body and car intact, filled with 20 Christmas presents, thoughtfully bought and stashed in the rear of my car.  All was going well albeit slower than I had anticipated.  I was getting lucky with the car spaces and encountered mostly polite people.  There was only one occasion where I had to yell out “Wow, is someone out of Christmas Joy?”   Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of cheer left in me, I was just trying to remind the driver that they shouldn’t have pulled out like that in front of someone else.  5 hours later saw me still frantically trying to get this task finished.  I had to pep talk myself, “Just a couple more hours, you can do this.  Just hang in there.  Think of the glory you will have when you can share “done and dusted” on your face book private page.  Beating all your family and friends and skiting about your  12 hour burst of perfectional shopping”.

A few sneaky café snacks later and a drink I shouldn’t have had, started to remind me that what goes down must continue down until it forces its desires upon and continue out.   I was being strong in my shopping skills but my body was failing me and my bladder was showing signs of not coping.  An hour later saw me conceding to find an ablution block that hopefully was of a reasonable standard and of my acceptance.  The shopping mall I was in was usually good, so I raced in that tiny wee room and slam locked the door in my one style perfected motion.  Out of pre-existing, been let down before habit,  I always check the toilet roll holder first to make sure that there is enough paper to finish with, thus enabling me to make a  quick decision on my next choice which meant I was now casting my eyes straight down the throne.   Café lunch return alert!!!  Oh yes.    You know you have to look and it was that look that made me swing that door open so fast and spin out of that disgusting non flushed cave.  Trust me you do not need a description nor hear my thoughts spill onto paper because I can assure you  not cool on any level.   Now my bladder is urging me to continue regardless of the haunting image in cubicle 1.   I pursue my quest into the next space which throws me directly into a 2 for 1 deal.  Another un-flushed deposit.  WHAT IS IT WITH THAT!!  IF ITS BROWN FLUSH IT DOWN!  It rhymes so it’s easy to remember, isn’t it?   It’s good manners to flush away what you gave isn’t it?  Ahhhhh!  You don’t want to look at some one else’s recycled INSIDES so what makes you think I want to look at YOURS.  FLUSH IT!!! If it doesn’t go down FLUSH IT AGAIN!!. If you need a 3rd flush FLUSH IT AGAIN!!.  DON’T and I repeat DON’T! come out of that room until you have flushed it away.    ITS SIMPLY GOOD MANNERS  ……………….