Friday, January 30, 2015

No Rest for the Wicked Room

This may have actually happened exactly this way earlier today:

I had to pee really bad, so I trotted to my usual bathroom, an employee only one in a small office suite just down the hall from my work space. You know when you have to go really bad, everything is kind of mechanical until a certain point, you just get to where you have to be to make it all happen and only once it's happening do you become fully aware of your surroundings.

It was at that particular moment of relief where I took my first breath and nearly died of disgust. It's not the first time, and I suspect not the last, where that will happen. I am not expecting the essence of gentle spring mist nor any obligatory citrus scent - but Lordy Lord, it was as if an entire bison carcass was left to rot for a month and a few days, then removed just prior to my arrival.

I held my breath, finished my business, washed my hands and then exited the bathroom as rapidly as possible and as quickly as I exhaled once the door opened, just before I was about to take in some fresh air, a colleague appeared hoping to use the rest room. I was not in there long enough for the preexisitng odor to dissipate and this colleague wasn't there when I walked in, so to them, I am the cause of the death ray they were about to be subject to.

I looked them right in the eye and said, "at your own risk man, 'twasn't I", then gingerly skip stepped out of there while breathing whatever fresh(ish) air I could take in.

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