In the pantheon of human weakness, there are some things that I struggle with.
I can tolerate people making noise at the gym, unless they happen to sound like Woody Woodpecker at 105 decibels.
I can tolerate cyclists, as long as they’re not wearing an excessively tight yellow shirt advertising some Italian cheese.
However, every time I walk into a toilet and the bowl has been left unflushed, I find flashes of rage flushing my cheeks.
It takes but a small second to push the handle or the button to wash away your digestive iniquities.