“My head missed the toilet bowl by a hair,” Bill says. “If my head had hit it, it could have killed me.”
Bill has opened the door from his studio that leads into my house. He’s standing in the doorway just looking at me.
He looks like he has a confession. He does.
“Yeah?” I say. “What? What are you talking about?”
“When I cleaned the bathroom yesterday morning,” he says, “the mop fell sideways to the floor, right in front of the toilet. I let it lie. I thought, ‘I’ll remember it’s there.'” (more…)