The road outside our hotel room
Yesterday afternoon we got caught in a monsoon-like downpour. We were sloshing home from dinner in puddles of warm water up to our shins. Cars were crawling along trying not to cover pedestrians in rooster tails of water or stall their engines. I had decided to walk barefoot rather than destroy my new Mephisto sandals that are supposed to last for a year. Eric, on the other hand, slogged through in his running sneakers.
Upon arrival at our cramped hotel room, Eric decided to take a shower to rinse off his shoes, socks, and storm water (probably some sewage as well) soaked legs. A few minutes later, I entered the bathroom and, to my dismay, found the toilet seat dripping wet with water just like our Malaysian housekeepers used to leave our toilet until I trained them differently and similar to all public toilets – a puddle-soaked, dripping wet mess.
Me: Eric, did you close the shower curtain?
Eric: No. Why?
Me: The toilet seat is disgusting.
Eric: Well, it’s only shower water. But, from your tone, I won’t make that mistake again.