Monday, June 11, 2012

Inspector No. 8

Firstly: I hate it when people say "firstly"... or "secondly."

Secondly: While searching for a free stock image of a public restroom, the above surfaced on Ummm...I've never used a urinal, but I'm pretty certain not many urinals look like this. Actually, I did just walk in on an adult using a urinal at Miles's graduation at the high school. Yup. Taking him to the potty, and it was one of those "no door/walk around an L shaped brick wall" kinda bathrooms. I walked right in and saw who I am sure was either a teacher or a parent  peeing at the urinal. In an attempt to score some lemonade out of the whole situation (strike that...bad reference), thought, "at least it wasn't one of the Fathers at the school." But let's get real--is this honestly an accurate depiction of a urinal?? The males in my life usually decorate urinal stories with words like "trough" and "sticky."

Thirdly: (yup, hate that one too...) if urinals looked like that, I'd want to use them! (As long as I could still reach the flusher with my foot.)

I've talked before about my neuroses related to public restrooms. I've created some rules/systems:
  • always use the first or last stall.
  • opt for any available seat cover.
  • flush with your foot.
One of the nice things about coming into work early is that I get to walk into a bathroom and see the toilet seats up. Do you know what that means? It means that I allow myself to make the assumption that the toilets were just cleaned. My bottom is the first hit of the day! It's as close to "fresh" as one can get. Plus, our bathroom is always ice cold. Another score! This makes no logical sense, but it seems cleaner when cold. Warmth reminds me of petri chemistry. And I have convinced myself that cold makes all the E.coli, Shigella, and flesh eating bacteria (all cases recently have been from GA!), slow down so if I go fast enough, they don't even have time to reach my pikachu. But here is when we run into a little problem. The last stall at work, "my" stall, has had this tiny #8 circular sticker on the floor for weeks now. It's like the kind you find in pants after you buy them: an inspector sticker.

Aaaaand this is what follows in my brain:

Is my bathroom really being cleaned?
Why hasn't this sticker been swept up by the breeding ground for bacteria that is the cleaning person's mop?
Are they just putting the seats up to humor me?
Should I leave a note asking them to clean the floor?

Eric always told me that all guys have done something like use a Gatorade bottle to pee into when bathrooms aren't accessible.

Emotionally, I'm kinda feeling like my bathroom is not accessible anymore.

And my empty Odwalla bottle is looking mighty tempting.

1 comment:

  1. What about one of these urinals? A ceramicist at my cousin's pottery studio used to make these: