The Bathroom of Monochromatic Lust is–heh heh–hung.
I am a happy squid.
It contains five frog couples, one pair of dung beetles, one pair of bunnies, and a coupla humans, just so nobody thinks I’m, y’know, weird.
Believe it or not, this is good feng shui. I am deeply skeptical that it’ll actually do anything, but that’s the “relationship” section of the apartment, according to the compass, and should be hung with images of happy couples, and also I’m supposed to keep the toilet seat down. Which I would have done anyway.
The skeptic in me will allow that some feng shui is based on solid practical psychology–thou shalt not have thy back to the door, lest one grow twitchy and paranoid while working, for example, and thou shalt have wide enough walkways not to knock crap over by accident, and I’ll even allow that having the bed wedged into a corner with only one approach is probably less than welcoming for potential visitors to said bed.
However, I do not particularly buy that filling the upper right quadrant (aligned from the front door) with peonies and romantic imagery will have a mystical effect. There are limits. Thus, frog sex and heavily tattooed bald men embracing. That’s as close to romantic imagery as I’m getting. (Hey, the tattooed guys are oddly sweet.)
On the other hand, if I now meet a nice man who says “Hey baby…wanna engage in amplexus with me?”* I will have no one to blame but myself.
*…and I would be so impressed that he knew what amplexus was that I would at least let him buy me a drink and plead his case.
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