Okay, I may be dancing around a touchy subject here, because, to be honest, toilet brush use is not a widely discussed topic in North America. It could be that I am a complete neanderthal with subpar public washroom etiquette, but in my 35 years of North-American bathroom frequenting, toilet brush use is reserved for the following distinct people groups:

1) the owner of the toilet; and,
2) someone paid by the owner of the toilet.

A German grocery store checkout is pretty much what I imagine tripping on acid would be like. (Yes. Imagine. I once graffitied the walls in the Honour Society room at my high school, and then went directly to the principal's office to hand myself in. Do you really think I could pull off an acid trip?) It's an overly emotional experience with bright lights and a lot of colours and shapes whizzing by, time feels like it's moving exponentially fast, at some point I have to give someone some money, a tight friendship is formed with anyone who makes it through with me and there's a feeling of euphoria but in the end I feel sweaty, dizzy and nauseous.

I live a few blocks away from this lovely old Lutheran church, built in 1906. And one street away from another beautiful Catholic church, also more than a century old. Sometimes I forget that I am surrounded by all this inspiring history and architecture and culture.