An Open Letter to the Peanut on the Floor of the Men's Room:
Where did you go? I miss you.
I will admit that at first I was perplexed by you, then disgusted, then perplexed, and then disgusted again, but now that you're gone I miss you, Pookie.
You must agree that it's pretty strange that someone would be snacking on peanuts in the bathroom, and even stranger that someone so committed to their peanut snacking habit would carelessly drop one. I couldn't quite fathom the journey that led you to your resting place on the floor by the bathroom stall. And I couldn't understand how you stayed there for weeks, in defiance of the regular cleaning routine that the bathroom undergoes daily. What was your secret?
Each day over the last few weeks, I looked forward to seeing you in some corner of the bathroom. Some days you were in your stall, other days you boldly sat in the entryway. Many people theorized that the nightly mopping moved you around from place to place, but they underestimated you. I believed.
Yesterday was the beginning of the end. In the morning I found you happily squatting on the floor by the hand towels, but by lunch something horrible had happened. You had been stepped on. You were little bits. :( And by the end of the day uncaring shoes had scattered your tiny little pieces to various nooks and crannies of the floor and bathmat. So sad, Pookie. So brittle, peanut.
So, in memory of you, I do hereby promise to carry on your spirit and memory. I will leave tiny little snacks on the floor of the men's room on a regular basis. One day it'll be a slice of orange by the urinal, the next it'll be a noodle under the sink, and some days I'll memorialize our all-too-short time together by leaving breakfast cereal by the toilet.
No peanuts though. That's just nasty.