The argument about whether the toilet seat should be left up or down has probably been around ever since the invention of the toilet. (Or, more accurately, since about twelve hours after the invention of the toilet, since I’m guessing that the first toilet was probably installed in the daytime, and that the first conflict probably occurred when most toilet seat conflicts seem to occur—in the dark). Anyway, regardless of exactly when the first toilet seat argument happened, I have finally, after years of dedicating myself to the problem, come up with a solution. Are you ready? Here goes.
The toilet seat should be left… whichever way the person who last cleaned the toilet likes it.
There. That’s it. The toilet seat solution, in its entirety. It doesn’t matter what the ratio of males to females in the house is, nor does it matter who is most “deserving” of special privileges. The bathroom is neither a democracy nor a meritocracy: it is a monarchy, and as such, he (or she) who last cleans it is the King (or Queen) of the bathroom. Long Live the King (or Queen).
Such are the perks of monarchy that the Ruler of the Loo also gets to decide on other contentious subjects as well, subjects such as whether fuzzy toilet seat covers are to be allowed, whether the extra rolls of toilet paper should be visible (as opposed to hidden underneath the skirts of some cutesy fake Colonial doll), and even whether or not bright pink toilet paper (the kind that gives most people an embarrassing rash) should ever be allowed to replace the normal, “boring” TP. The Ruler of the Loo is also the final authority on if, when, and how much “floral scented” spray should be dispensed. In fact, the person who last cleans the toilet gets to decide everything about the bathroom, with the exception of whether the toilet paper should come from over the top or underneath the bottom of the toilet paper roll. That decision gets to be made by the last person who actually replaced the toilet paper on the spindle, hereafter known as the Paper Prince/cess.
Brilliant, eh? Just think: no more arguing about having the toilet seat up or down. If you feel that strongly about the subject, then you get down on your hands and knees and scrub your way to bathroom domination. And I’m not just talking about giving the inside of the bowl a little swish with the brush—no, I mean all of the toilet, including that spot right in front that’s always a little bit sticky and oh my god I just felt it with my bare foot what is it what is it what is it don’t think about it. Yeah: that spot.
Actually, I think that this method could be applied to lots of different household disputes, especially those involving children. Don’t like your sheets being tucked in too tight? Then you make the bed. Unhappy that your ipod went through the washer? Do the laundry yourself. Don’t like 2% milk? Get a job, hippie, and buy your own damn milk. Okay, maybe that last one was a little off topic, but it is, after all, the natural progression of things.
The right to complain is a perk. And it is a perk that should only be enjoyed by the people who actually do the work. It’s okay if that’s the only reason you’re doing the work in the first place—in fact, that’s understandable. After all, that’s the only reason some people vote.
Of course, there’s always the danger that once we start showing them the benefit of doing some things for themselves they might eventually just decide they’re better off getting their own place and start doing everything on their own.
Oh wait: that’s not a danger. That’s a benefit, too.