And so it is. like you said it would be. Life goes peepee on me.

You've been there. You're absent mindedly wandering the house and the body decides to initiate the shower sequence, of its own accord. Suddenly you realize a Brad Pitt is imminent. Not that its the prime mover, but you figure since you'll be in there it might as well all happen at once. Separately.
Now, if I wander towards the underwear drawer and pull out the cleanest dirty pajama pants in preparation, Ono will inevitably have made her way towards the bathroom door. With intent to bathe.
Quantum physics shows some quarks go up at the same others go down even if they are separated by distance, complete days-end oblivion, and heat stress.
Ono will then have the "oh just hurrying in there, nothing to worry about" look. Which does nothing to dissuade the radar ass that has taken the helm of my self.

And monsters live in the downstairs toilet sometimes. But we don't talk about that. Gotta go down there now. And go there unannounced.
Which is why we have an announcer:

He has a head. 

I just cant find any pictures of it among all the pictures in the damn hard drive.

 He goes in, point man. Loyal pup, no question. One gentle shove, block and kneepush and off he goes to assure me the area is secure. The turkey slices at the bottom of the stairs are just proof of his disinterested performance. Or a busted schnoz.