In proper society, a refined lady limits her topic of conversation to the weather; if she’s slightly less discreet, she may discuss the condition of the roads. That is Not Me! I like to talk about anything I know anything about.
Don’t worry, I’m not a potty mouth. Having been exposed to vulgar speech in years past, I did indeed have that problem when I was young—but now, not-so-much. Not that I never blurt out a cuss word, I cannot honestly say that. But, again, I digress.
Today’s blog title is a commitment to discontinue a habit I have gotten into lately of talking about potty! Yes, you read it right. I resolve this day to refrain from sharing aspects of my job as caregiver that some would consider “unpleasant details.”
I’ve picked up a vibe from some that it was permissible to mention the situation to bear my burden—but yeah, let’s not go there any more, M-Kay? M-kay. I’m down with it—at least being sensitive to the guy with the vulnerable stomach, the family member that feels guilty, and the delicate flower with genteel sensibilities.
It takes a lot to embarrass me; the old Laura could make a sailor blush. But it’s been a long time, so if I hear young women cussing it up, it does strike a twang. But other than that, very little fazes me. And I know others that are the same way. But by the same token, I understand some are creeped out: they don’t want to hear about [Bleep! …Aren’t you proud of me? I deleted the list!] You get my drift. [Rats! Get my drift is vulgar slang, isn’t it? Oh, Man! So is rats! …I’m doomed!]
Okay. Today I vow to avoid speaking of any rodent, stench, animal habit, surgery, the trunk of the anatomy, childbirth or the prevention thereof, menstruation, and all bodily secretions. [Ew. Euphemisms aren’t nearly as gross as this medical terminology.]
Have a nice day. The sun is shining, and I noted a marked improvement in the condition of the roads.