She lies in wait until I arrive at the office in the mornings. She lurks in the hallway, waiting for me to go to the office bathroom. She waits until I’m all settled in in the corner stall, then she bursts in, slamming her way into the stall RIGHT NEXT TO MINE. Then she remains there for as long as possible, rattling the sanitary napkin disposal box, collecting what must surely be reams of toilet paper, flushing, zipping, unzipping, rustling, throat-clearing, nose-blowing, and all manner of strange noise-making.
To you, strange morning bathroom lady, I have but one thing to say:
There are three stalls in the bathroom. Why do you always pick the one right next to me? I always pick one by the wall, that way, when you come in, you can easily place a comfortable distance of one stall between us. But no. You consciously choose to put your little feeties right where I can see them beneath the door. I for one am tired of seeing your orthopedic footwear so up close and personal every day. Please, for the love of all things scatological, choose Door No. 3!
For more on the perils of the ladies room, visit this clever lady’s bloggie.