However hard I tried, I just couldn’t sleep. For a while, I thought it was because I was unable to find the right pillow position for my tired head. But even when I finally did, my restless mind wouldn’t calm down. That’s when I started thinking about stuff I really shouldn’t think about. Especially in the middle of the night while staying at a hotel.

First I started thinking about how many other guests had endured sleepless nights on the very same pillow my head was on right there and then. Yeah, that didn’t lead anywhere good. In fact, it got me thinking about how many hundreds or even thousands of other guests must have drooled on that very same pillow.

Was I trying to sleep on a reservoir of dried drool?

At some point, I got tired of turning the pillow over and over and got up from bed as quietly as possible to not wake Charlotte.

I tip-toed quietly into the toilet, closed the door, sat down on the throne, and started to pee. At my age, it’s no big anatomic revelation that peeing at 3:17 am is a whole lot easier sitting down. While I was comfortably seated there, waiting patiently for my bladder to empty, I noticed to the left of me, a foot-long, chromed cylinder where the bathroom’s toilet brush stood. I stay at a lot of hotels and though I’ve made use of a toilet brush from time to time, just like the rest of us, I’ll admit having never given much thought to the container in where it rests when not in use.

While looking at the brush’s shiny handle, I wondered how often the container was emptied and cleaned out. Maybe it was never emptied? Maybe the cleaning staff only uses the brush and just allows the accumulated fluid to amass until, well, it just flows over? I can appreciate that.

As you might already have guessed, soon enough the temptation overwhelmed me and I just had to check. So, I reached down to lift up the brush to see how full the cylinder actually was. And that’s when I accidentally knocked the sucker over.

The cylinder slowly wobbled before falling to its side. Then it made an echoing, metal “clunk” sound as it hit the tiled floor after which the brush came flying out with fury, like a ballistic missile. This was soon followed by what seemed to be a never-ending flood of fluid. The amount of toilet brush water had almost biblical proportions and soon the entire bathroom floor was covered with it.

My first reaction was to focus on determining whether or not the noise had woken Charlotte. I listened, but there was only silence. I sighed audibly with relief. That’s when I started feeling a cold, wetness surround my bare feet.

Oh, no! (Oh yes!)Needless to say, I was angry, embarrassed, and disgusted all at once.

It took me a good 15 minutes to clean up the bathroom floor. Once done, I obviously had to take a shower and scrub my feet and hands thoroughly. When I finally got out of the bathroom, it was just about 4:00 am and I felt tired like a dormant zombie.

Charlotte was still sound asleep when I snuck back into bed. And had I not posted this here, she would still be oblivious to my dubious entanglement with the toilet brush.

Now she, I, and you all know to be less curious about toilet brushes while staying at a hotel. Just assume that there full and handle them with tender care.