I have a very dear old friend, Karen K, who, in addition to being gorgeous, caring, and hilarious, is also brilliant and wrote this poem in high school (roughly paraphrased; not even Karen remembers the actual wording):
As I feel the cold porcelain beneath the thin crinkly white paperI have thought about that poem almost every single time I've used a paper seat cover on a public toilet since high school. Sorry, Karen, to think of you that way, but your thoughts are genius and I can't help it.
I wonder,
Is it wrong to pray on the toilet?
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