The decision to move to Thailand came quickly. I was around thirty, living out of hotels. Running a coffee export business out of Bangkok, conducting much of my business from whichever café had a decent cup of coffee and a reliable internet connection. It wasn’t exactly a corner office, but it got the job done.

At the time, I was responsible only for myself. Life was easy. Life was good.

I initially signed a six-month lease on an apartment near central Bangkok. Nothing fancy, but it was mine. I went about the business of setting up a life: grocery runs, plates, forks, knives, bedsheets. The cheap kind, naturally. A thread count of ten, if such a thing even exists.

I went to Chatuchak Weekend Market to buy plants. It’s game on when you start decorating your humble abode with ferns.

Then I discovered the bidet. A small but life-changing piece of plumbing that made so much damn sense I wondered how I’d managed without one for thirty years.

I remember not using it for a few months. It was just hanging in its rusty holster. Then I got curious. And pulled the trigger.

Suddenly, six months didn’t seem nearly long enough. I extended the lease to a full year. Turns out, sometimes it doesn’t take much to convince a man he’s found a new home.

When I explain to Thais that bidets are rare in the USA, some say nothing. Others have this look of bemusement. Undoubtedly, all are unilaterally thinking Americans walk around with doo-doo around the rim of their buttholes.

My point is, if you’re lucky to have the opportunity to move to another country, take that chance. Just move to one that has a bidet. It will change your life.