Dateline: not ten minutes ago
Location: right here

The family insisted on a swim (rather than target-shooting) on a hot Sunday afternoon. What's up with that? Okay, we settled in, had a good time over an hour+, Stuart shot everyone up with water guns. What's up with that? As an afternoon storm approached, it was time to head in, and get changed back into civvies. People strolled toward bathrooms and bedrooms, leaving puddles and wet towels everywhere. Adults headed upstairs. Being the master of the house, my plan was to take the master bathroom. At first, all seemed well.

Ascending the steps, I heard a footstep, a chuckle, then another. Someone was ahead of me! It was the wife, heading for the same bathroom. Oh no! Aha, there she was, walking backward now, picking up some clean clothes. I gathered mine, quicker. The race was on, but she didn't know - but Stuart did and yelled upstairs, "Hurry, mom!"

In a flash, Juimiin was hustling back into the bathroom. She got there first! I was cold, and now alert, so I going to get in there whether or not she was in there. Oh no, the door was closing! The ghost of Harrison Ford (thankfully not deceased) spoke to me. Or maybe it was the ghost of Alec Guinness (sadly so). Use the shirt, Frank. Use the shirt. A split second later, my clean t-shirt flew across the room, right into the shrinking gap between the door and the frame. Blocked! Success!

A cackle from the bathroom, followed by many more. A tug-of-war ensued over the shirt. When she pushed, I pushed. When she pulled, I pulled. The door was still open a little, but we were at an impasse.

I sighed. Declining to use my superior muscles and authoritah, I admitted defeat and headed to another bathroom. As I walked away, I was dripping, cold, and had to listen to the woman's glee "this is so funny!".