Not a Jet, Just a Toilet

What’s the one luxury I can’t live without? A clean toilet that’s mine alone. Seriously. No joke, no exaggeration — that’s my peace, my sanity, and my sanctuary all rolled into one small, porcelain-centered room. Some dream of yachts and private jets. Me? I dream of a quiet, spotless bathroom that no one else uses. Underrated luxury. Absolute peace.

There’s a particular kind of joy in not sharing your bathroom. No guessing who left the floor wet. No confronting mysterious sink goo. No playing detective over the crime scene that is someone else’s hygiene routine. Just silence, cleanliness, and the comforting knowledge that everything in there is exactly how I left it. It’s control in a world that rarely gives us any.

This might sound odd to someone who’s never had to share a bathroom with five people and one towel hook. Or someone who’s never experienced the tragedy of sitting down only to realize the seat is inexplicably wet. Or worse — that the toilet paper roll is gone and hope is lost. After all that, having my own space isn’t just nice. It’s sacred.

There’s a deeper point to this, too. I think it reflects how I see the world. I don’t crave excess. I crave comfort. Cleanliness. Quiet. I value little things that most people overlook because they’re the first to go when life gets chaotic. A clean toilet might not sparkle on Instagram, but it lets me start my day with calm instead of chaos. It’s a boundary. A buffer. A tiny, tiled act of self-care.

So while others chase bigger, shinier things, I’ll be here — appreciating the everyday luxury of not having to yell, “Who used the last of the soap?” or wonder what’s behind the closed bathroom door. Give me privacy, a clean seat, and my favorite playlist echoing off the tile. That’s my idea of living well. That’s my luxury.