After I peed and before I flushed.
Accidentally, of course. Not as an experiment or anything. It took a dive from out of my back pocket somehow and didn’t write a suicide note, so I figured it didn’t have some death-by-drowning-in-pee wish.
And this is just between you and me, but I pulled that Lincoln-faced bad boy out with my bare hands.
Oh yes I did.
It was a public restroom, so how nasty could it be?
I once dropped a pager into the toilet and it didn’t survive the bath, but five bucks? Five bucks totally stays alive in a bowl of pee, amiright? A few minutes under the hand dryer and you go back out and buy yourself a beer with it.
I’m pretty sure if my husband finds out, though, he’ll want to throw it and everything I wore last night into the laundry.
A minimum of four times. In hot water. He’d probably bleach Abe’s face right off.
But isn’t pee supposed to be sterile or something? I mean, hasn’t some survival guy or two drank it to stay alive until the giant Bassett Hound with the little rum barrel around its neck showed up?
Surely I’m not the only one whose gone porcelain bowl fishing.