Now I'm playing catch up at work, born from a summer rife with unexpected events and workload overload. We'll get there. Right before lunch, I took a break to use the ladies room and had a classic libraries restroom experience. I've blogged about this before. I don't know why, but the library bathroom on the first floor is by far the most objectionable on campus. Topped only by the portapotties (sp?!) that the omnipresent construction workers use, I'm certain. It's always sticky, nasty, and out of soap. Every.single.time. The summer is slightly better only because there are less people around to carelessly "forget" to flush the toilet when they're finished.
So anyway, I'm in there, ever so delicately using the facilities, when I hear someone else come in. Nothing abnormal about that, I go about my business. I come out of my stall, and wash my hands. As I'm drying them, I catch sight of the closed stall currently in use. Given that I'm in the *ladies* room, I stopped short upon realizing that the feet of the person in the stall are facing the toilet. Oh yeah, not to be indelicate, but all sounds indicate that facilities are currently in use. I pause in my hand wiping, utterly betwixt. Suddenly, other sounds of life emote from the stall.
"Wait. Did I go in the wrong bathroom?" *uncomfortable silence* "Dude. I totally think I'm in the wrong bathroom."
CatholicLibrarian quickly finished wiping her hands, and made a beeline for the exit, clickety-clacky shoes on the tile only confirming for the other poor soul that he was indeed in the wrong restroom.
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