Bassist’s restroom has been cleaned.
I wish I could say this was a gift to help soothe his feelings about the health of his extended family, or for any other charitable reason. But the fact is I was simply cleaning the recreation room — part of my duties as one housemate of three — and I wandered into his bathroom (which is off the rec room), and said to myself “woah, it’s a freaking sty!”.
Then for purely selfish reasons concerning my own sense of what is good and what is bad (healthy and unhealthy), I spent the next hour wiping up the dust that edged the room, scrubbing and bleaching the variously colored scum from the tub (Ben what are you doing in the shower?), washing down the toilet exterior, and rinsing the sink basin (though I never can get sinks and counters done perfectly). I even rinsed the cup the toothbrush was perched in after seeing the mystery scum inside when I knocked it over.
Still needs a new shower curtain. But in general, Ben’s restroom is now clean. And I am selfish.