I’m sitting down in the basement watching a MASH marathon. Something I don’t get to do too often since the show went off the air thirty years ago and is now on television in syndication only rarely. And before you go and say anything about why I don’t just go and get the complete collection on DVD or streaming it someplace let me spare you the trouble.
Having every episode on some disc sitting around to play whenever I want is NOTHING compared to the euphoria you get when flipping through the channels and finding your favorite show on. Because when it comes my faves, I still get giddy when I turn on the television and there it is. And I also like the randomness of not knowing which episode it is too. Don’t judge.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…. So there I am watching Hawkeye and BJ putting shaving cream on Frank Burn’s face for about the five billionth time when in walks my miffed significant other. I know she can see the happiness in my eyes watching my boys from the four-oh-double-seven. She is fully aware of my love for the show. I’m eating nachos and enjoying the good life of reliving the Korean War through the eyes of guys named Trapper, Radar and Klinger. I am in my happy place. She none the less isn’t so amused.
Apparently, there is a jungle growing out in the yard. A runaway lawn has gotten too out of control and must be addressed. For me, such things do not take precedence over watching Klinger dressing like a woman and trying to eat a Jeep to get out of the army. She had been wanting me to cut it for the longest time. I said I was going to, but that was before I stumbled upon MASH. She didn’t say a word though. Just stood there. Staring at me.
So after the stare down has gotten to be too much I did something I rarely do. Please forgive me Colonel Potter….
I put the TV on mute.
That’s right, turned off the sound to one of my all time favorite television shows. There was another ten or fifteen second moment of silence. The tension in the air was so strong you could cut it with a knife. Then finally, she spoke.
“You know, you are wasting your life away watching a show that you’ve seen a thousand times already…”
Again, more silence.
I slowly took another bite out of my nacho. The beef and cheesy combination only reminded me that I needed to get back to Korea as soon as possible. So after washing it down with some cold beer, I cleared my throat and responded with the following:
Honey? I did some research. The average person spends approximately 8-10 minutes every day going to the bathroom (both number one and number two). Mind you, the time could increase depending upon many factors such as drunken nights or eating bad Chinese but let’s just use “ten” as a baseline. This includes the act itself and assuming you use proper hygiene methods afterwards. That equates out to more or less an hour a week.
I multiplied that by 52 and got 52 hours for a year. Follow me? Then I multiplied that again by 75 for the years of an average life span. (I didn’t tell her, but I would have subtracted some time for those early years where we all have incontinence issues and Mom and Dad had to take care of hygiene. But I didn’t want to make this issue too complicated).
Finally, I divided this number by 24 for hours in a day.
Do you know what I discovered Sweetheart? The average person spends almost a full half year of their entire life either taking a leak or dropping a deuce. Yep, we spend 6 months in the toilet. Amazing isn’t it? What a waste of time (pun intended).
Now I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather spend that time watching MASH then sitting on the pot. Wouldn’t you agree?
She shook her head and walked away. I raised my bottle of beer and gave myself a toast. Looks like the grass will have to wait. At least until MASH is over.
Oooh…King Kong Vs. Godzilla is coming on next….