I’ve said it many times, so most of you already know, that I am a writer and an editor. Words are my world, my living, and the light that shines on my soul and tells you who I am. I write them, twist them, manipulate them, so that they speak on my behalf. Who I am is written in everything I write.

I am a word master.

No, really, I is.

Still, even for a master like me, there are some words and sayings in the English language that baffle me.

Fortunately, words in English baffle other people too, so that’s why I can make a living editing. The more confusing the language is, the better for my pocketbook!

But seriously, I was sitting in a waiting room early this morning, and you know how you never have anything to do in a waiting room, and the magazines are either non-existent, two years old, or else you look around the room at all the sick people and think about all the hands that might have touched those magazines, and you just can’t bring yourself to pick one up.

So what do you do?

Sit and stare at a wall and try to make yourself as invisible as possible.

But I’m digressing.

My point, I was sitting in a waiting room with nothing to do but sit and stare at the wall, and while I was trying to make myself as invisible as possible, I glanced up and saw the sign that said: “Restrooms” with an arrow pointing down the hall.

Well, that got me to thinking about that word: restroom.

Before I had children, I used to think that the word ’restroom’ was a misnomer. After all, rest-room, would indicate that this was a room in which you, well, rest, right?

Well, most people don’t ’rest’ in a restroom, so why is it not called the piss & shit room?

Probably because the ampersand would be offensive to some.

& <—-that’s an ampersand for those who don’t know.

Don’t ask me what piss and shit means though, because I, myself, have never once uttered those words in my life.

I’m one of those pure people who don’t piss or shit.

And when I do, it doesn’t stink either.

Smells just like flowers.

In a manure field, maybe, but I’m digressing again.

Twice in one blog. Man, I’m good.

Maybe three times?

Anyhoo, once I had children, I fully understood why it was called a restroom. It’s the only room in the house where I can get any rest from the constant, “Moo-ooom!”

But then, on the topic of rooms, why is it a bedroom but not a livingroom, but rather a living room. And why is the kitchen not called an ovenroom, or washthosedirtydishesbeforeIscreamroom?

Then there is the ’den’.

Do you have a den in your house? I don’t. I had two living rooms. Why? Hell if I know, but that’s what the Realtor’s report said when I bought the house. Ryan had a den in his house.

What makes his old den different from my old second living room? Does anyone know?

I mean, REALLY know?

Supposition is welcome.

Supposition: noun, the position in which you eat supper.

Not to be confused with Dinposition, which is the position in which you eat dinner, for those of you who aren’t as sophisticated as us Southerners.

Isn’t English great?

Love and stuff,

Michy