We’re facing possibly one of the greatest calamities imaginable in a modern society outside of a natural disaster: our washlet is broken! On a bleak, cold and dark morning, I struggled to drag myself out of bed, but my rumbling bowels made it easier. I was horrified, though, to find that I couldn’t get the comforting spray between my cheeks that I have become accustomed to after bombing the bowl following decades of life in Japan. Hoping that it was nothing more than a mere glitch, I removed the washlet’s power plug and headed out on a ride, praying that…
