Monday, September 12, 2011

Drip. . .

At my nonprofit job I work in a large building composed of many little businesses. On each floor is a john with three stalls (the men’s bathrooms are different I’m sure). After much research I figured out which stall sees the least amount of action. This is where the tired argument concerning other people doing the same research and therefore all clamoring for the same potty comes in, and yes if all of us researchers are using the same toilet then the research is rendered slightly invalid, BUT (no pun intended), and there is a but, even if the toilet is seeing more tushes, I’d like to think that these tushes are using the seat covers, or in the very least, because they’re the type to do the research, are slightly cleaner than the rest.

Today my research was tested. Upon my first visit to the restroom I discovered quite a bit of water on the seat. Dismayed, I used the toilet ranking second on my list of toilets that see the least amount of action. Every preferred toilet has its bad moments and disrespectful users. I didn’t think very much of it until the second time I used the restroom and discovered a different array of splashes on the seat of the preferred toilet. Shocked, I begin questioning not only the carefully compiled data, but all the other facts and figures in my head. Suddenly all the graphs and numbers of my life were before me, turning into squiggles and mocking faces. If this toilet was the wrong one, what else had I miscalculated? Was my preferred parking spot at the library suddenly going to produce a tree teeming with birds ready to drop their bowels?

As I stood in the once preferred stall, with the door open and my hands raised in desolation, a tiny drop of water pinged my face. Horrified, I looked up. There, above the stall, was a tiny water stain. For a moment the self doubting eased, and relief set in. But once I regained composure I suddenly became aware that I was on the first floor, and that it was likely that there were other bathrooms on top of the one I was standing in, and that the water that just fell on my face. . .

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