One of the most frustrating things about this place in the summer is having to walk down the long corridor of the building every time I need to go to the bathroom, when I know there is a bathroom directly outside the reception desk which is closed off by a big metal gate.
It's not just the walk, either, that exasperates me. The bathroom on the other end of the building is a public bathroom with five stalls. The one by my desk is a large, single disabled bathroom. It's been an issue of mine my whole life to need to do my business in privacy. I just don't like other people being around. Bathroom business is highly personal and undignified. I don't want perfect strangers, or worse, people I see every day, to experience the experience with me. Not unless we have a whole lot of friendship, and even then it's doubtful that I'd trust you in the bathroom with me. Needless to say, I've never been one of these bathroom-buddy girls who invite all their friends and make-up to the toilet with them.
So call me lazy, call me immature, call me what you will, but I just really can't stand the inconvenience of it all. And it's not just a once or twice a day thing. I drink tea like it's oxygen, and we all know tea doesn't rhyme with pee by mere coicidence.
It's a ridiculous paranoia, I know, but I still can't get out of my head the words of the former Miss Arkansas, Whitney Kirk, from eleventh grade saying that so-and-so was so unclass for going #2 in a public bathroom. I've never been able to shake the belief that all the refined people in the world agree that this is shameful. Combine that with my already ridiculous timidity to dispel any kind of bodily waste in a public place, and you'll understand why I need that metal gate open.
There's just something so not right about people hearing you on the toilet. You'll find if I visit your home, and your bathroom is relatively close to the room in which your guests are convening, you will hear the faucet come on and, after a minute, the toilet flush. This is my mask, this is what I hide my business behind. I believe the faucet must drown out the sound of pee, and if it doesn't, please don't tell me, I don't want to know. But if you were wondering why I was washing my hands for so long, well, just don't.
I think that's enough talk about waste products for today. Funny. I won't go in front of you, but I'll sure tell you all about it on my blog.
Hehe, blog. Kinda sounds like a potty word, itself. Blog.
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