I enter a room and George Carlin has a huge stack of glass bowls and I suggest we clean them. He and I are doing this precarious balancing act with the dishes as we playfully argue who's going to do the dishes and when. In order to prevent the whole bunch to tumble and break, we manage to make three smaller columns of dishes. Now I am at the sink and washing off dried bits of catsup and food off the dish. Now I am looking for a place to go to the bathroom. Paulina has moved in with me, so she's around. I want some privacy. Howard is around, too. I find a small hall-like room with a door at each end and I try to close both doors as Paulina and someone is on the left side in a living room watching TV and someone else is on the right side in another room. I squat to have a bowel movement and pause, wishing I had brought toilet paper. I realize if I let go, I will urinate all over the floor, and I pick up a bit of paper debris to hold under me to catch some of the flow. It's going to be a mess. Then I realize, now that I am alone, I can just go into the bathroom and do it normally in a toilet and save myself a lot of muss and fuss. I get up to go to the bathroom, feeling relieved.