In Calgary, I took a great many little poops.
I'm Edmonton, it was fewer, more significant poops. One such Edmonton
poop occurred in perhaps the finest bathroom I have ever known. It
happened in a church. The bathroom, or washroom as the signs say up
here, was a single-occupant model. It featured a comfortable toilet, a
floor urinal (the best kind), two sinks, a choice of two hand soaps, and
a lot of art on the walls. There was a general feeling of privacy and
calmness that prevailed there. A feeling that your dookus was been
dooked in a respectful environment. An honor to have crapped there.
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