At our mutual place of work, I have a favourite washroom stall that I like to practise peeing into – second one from the left if you’re facing the sinks.
I have a hunch that it’s your favourite stall as well and I’d like to talk to you about it. I think you need more practise or something.
Some days are frantic. I run from meeting to meeting into a lunch meeting only to face an afternoon of more meetings. I simply don’t have time to inspect the toilet seat prior to a transaction. Do you know where I’m going with this? Does it need to be so forwardly addressed?
To me, work is a clean and pretty safe place. Maybe if I were needing to make a deposit at the Eaton Centre, I’d consider the erroneous squat’n’totter – but at work! No ma’am. I know the folks I work with well enough. I don’t mind that their bums have touched the seat I’m sitting on. It’s just a bum. And truthfully, even if some of them are the slutty girls we secretly wish we were, it’s doubtful that any of that sexiness will make the improbable journey from their bathing suit parts, to the toilet, to your bum. I’m positive it doesn’t work like that. So I don’t mind.
But what I do mind, what I very much do mind, is this: sitting on the toilet at our mutual place of work, second one from the left if you’re facing the sinks, only to realise that you’ve been there moments ago. It’s not long until I recognise that familiar wetness against my once clean bum and I feel anguish, knowing that when I stand the air will affirm the degree of wet – clammy or soused. I can only hope for clammy, but even then, it’s hardly consolation now that I know my underpants must mop up this mess. And then I think about my jeans – surely they’ll rub up against the parts of my bum that my panties do not. They’ll be contaminated now too. But I just did laundry…
Do you see how your imprudence quickly turns my world upside down?
Did you ever see the movie Falling Down?