Heady matters today! We're on the boat and in port. Grateful that Michigan's blueberries make us regular. Once we've finished our coffee and fresh blueberries with peaches atop oatmeal that we've covered with heavy cream, we head for the bathhouse. Bathhouse is a euphanism. We're heading for the toilet. There in a steel stall with cinderblock walls and linoleum floors slanting to a center drain, we do our business. My family calls them "beams": a word coined by toddler Sarah decades ago which immediately and permanently replaced "BM."
Doing our beams on land makes living on Speakeasy more pleasant. The fumes emanating from the head are less odoriferous. And since we have a rule that not even a single piece of toilet paper can be put down the head, completing our "Toilette" on land is more sanitary.
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