A la toilette
The joys of wireless technology. Right now, I am sitting at my new slate topped bistro table in my garden, which is surrounded by 4 of the most darling antique white washed conservatory wrought iron chairs that I found in an antique shop while visiting Chicago. Here I can freely drink coffee from my gorgeous pink Johnson Brothers cup and matching saucer, and freely chain smoke, a la Carry Bradshaw.
One of the things that this blog allows me to do is draw attention to things at the libraries of the world, or the library that is practically in my back yard. While I could lie and say I walk to work each day through this charming neighborhood past the cafes, and boutiques...I'll confess to driving my large SUV 3 blocks to work each day.
Today's attention grabbing subject is that of the toilet at work. Yes, I've mentioned before that a certain dapper old Asian man was mugged in the mens public toilet about 8 months ago. But I've decided to draw attention to the staff latrine.
Before any of you start to panic that I am going to divulge any of the toilet going habits if my fellow staff mates, you are wrong. Instead I chose the topic of this "Should one go to the bathroom while at work?" I for one am of the "non-bathroom going" camp while at work. I don't think twice of using the powder at work if I only have to pee...but anything else...requires me to wait for my lunch, getting into my large Orange SUV and driving 3 blocks back home.
Part of my morning ritual requires me to drink massive amounts of coffee. Usually anything that has to be done IS done before I even come downstairs a la matin. There is something terribly horrifying to me about bathroom going at work. For one, toilet going noises are not polite, and the staff latrine is right in the staff canteen. Secondly, there is the issue of timing. If you are in there for more than one minute, everyone knows what you are doing. This horrifies me, and makes my powder experience quick as lightening. A quick slash, and a good thorough hand washing shouldn't require more than about 50 seconds. And last, the, how shall I put this delicately, the fragrance.
Now I will be the first to admit, when nature calls, it screams. We do keep a small can of Lysol near the commode. But the idea still horrifies me. I know its me...over protective mother and all. I grew up knowing that public restrooms were only for washing of the hands before taking a meal, and perhaps a quick pee during a movie. Mom would make us walk zombie style to the sinks after using the toilet and wash and dry our hands. Further, opening the door of a public loo became an art form worthy of Cirque de Soleil. From a distance, I could open the door with my sweater cuff, or better a paper towel and prop it with my foot, turn toss the paper towel INTO the trash, and make a hasty escape...all from about the tender age of 5.
So here we have it. My first official blog about the toilet going habits of an uppity librarian. Do with it what you will. I'm hoping I'm not alone in this behavior...but if I am, I am willing to brave it alone.
Moral of this blog: Blogging out of doors makes me discuss les chose natural.