Middle’s university Christmas concert on Saturday evening was a feast for the eyes and the ears. Held at Visitation Catholic Church, the ornate decorations would have kept even a hater of choral music happily occupied. The excellent accoustics and the divine voices and instrumentation topped off the evening beautifully.
And on the way home, we drove through Brookside and Mission Hills, down Ward Parkway (the setting of “Mr. and Mrs. Bridge,” and the home of the Halls, as in Hallmark, the Blochs, as in H&R Block, and the Stovers, as in Russel Stover). These homes are impressive in the day time, but lit up for Christmas they’re truly spectacular.
All that was the lovely part. I saved the vulgar part for last, even though it happened just before the concert.
As I always do before a long concert, I dashed to the restroom just before curtain time. This time it happened to be a unisex one. Before I went in, an elderly gentleman came out, and upon entering the nicely-appointed restroom, I noted a distinct odor of OLD PERSON BUTT. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, perhaps you have not hung out in churches and in concert venues as much as I have. Lucky you. Seriously.
So then I sat down to pee. Right into a puddle of old man pee on the seat, which the elderly gent before me had NOT LIFTED when he used the facilities. My thighs and butt were soaked. There are not adequate words to express my disgust. Insert gagging sound effects here.
Needless to say, I disinfected the moment we got home, and tossed my underwear and leggings into the wash immediately.
To complete this tale, I’ll leave you with the title of a traditional French Christmas carol I just discovered: “Quelle est cette odeur agréable?” or, in English, “Whence Is That Lovely Fragrance Wafting?”
I expect you’ll understand why I found that one appropriate.