As bathroom design motifs go, the beach—rendered by jars of seashells, seahorse figurines and sandpiper prints—is a ubiquitous link to the natural world of rocky tide pools and bountiful estuaries. But there’s a hard-bitten irony there. We may celebrate our modern bathroom as fundamental to our advanced civilization, but actually, we are often thwarting mother nature’s gut—to the detriment of our waterways.

Let’s back up. Naturally occurring bacteria thrive on our daily waste. Engineers and scientists have designed two methods of aiding them in their work, slowly degrading—or actively processing—the waste before it begins the slog to our waterways. A septic system separates solids and liquids, then holds onto the sludge for regular pumping out and percolates the liquid through gravel and soil rife with yuck-loving bacteria. Treatment plants mirror that process by using tanks to separate liquids and solids. More tanks introduce oxygen and stimulate microbe growth, followed by heat treatment of sludge and filtering of effluence to kill off toxic bacteria.

These systems keep us healthy by guarding the health of our fragile ecosystems. Yet we disrupt them. It’s estimated that nationwide, about a third of prescribed medications are partially or never used—and often flushed down the toilet, out of fear that a child or pet might get at them. Once flushed, they pollute waterways and the flora and fauna that inhabit them, and eventually, our own food web. Fish have been found with traces of antidepressants; contraceptives add hormones to our water.

Consider, as well, theoretically flushable items ranging from baby wipes and paper towels to condoms. These items are either slow to degrade and so gum up the works (paper towels), or are not biodegradable at all (condoms) and are unsightly when storm events or needed repairs result in treatment plant overflows. They belong in the trash.

We all want and need clean water. Let your décor serve as an incentive to treat the care of our waterways with the same attention and consistency as the cleansing of our bodies.

By Judith Swift ’68, director of URI’s Coastal Institute and professor at the Harrington School of Communication and Media