A Tale of Two Bathrooms

BATHROOM NUMBER 1 -

Yesterday morning I was starving but there would be nothing but black coffee on the menu for me. My doctor had scheduled a blood draw and I wasn't allowed to eat after 10 p.m. the night before. I arrived at the office on time and the nurse drew the blood. No problem, that doesn't bother me in the least. And then she says, "The doctor wants a sample. She needs to send it out to the lab."

A sample. The one that looks like apple juice.

HUH? What??? No way!!!

Darn it. I'm spitting bullets at this point but the nurse wasn't taking no for an answer. I can endure alot of things but perching myself on a toilet and attempting to hit a blind target is the ultimate indignity. Men have no problem with this. Heck no. They do target practice with Cheerios from the time they're two years old.

I found myself in my doctor's beautifully decorated bathroom. I'm talking nice artwork, automatic air fresheners, blue toilet water and everything. None of that matters at the moment because I'm facing the dreaded task. Unfortunately I had used the bathroom just before leaving home and at this point I'm not even sure I can produce the "apple juice".

Much jostling and muttering under my breath ensued. Success!! Unfortunately the toilet was one of those handicap accessible models, which means I'm a distance off the floor. It's almost impossible to reach over to put the cup on the floor so I reach behind me and put it on the back of the toilet, which is, unbeknownst to me, slanted. Yes.... the entire contents spilled on the floor!

My kids are young adults and I thought I'd seen the last of cleaning up the three P's (pee, poop & puke). But no.

Five minutes and many paper towels later I managed to get the mess cleaned up. But in the process of giving the sample I'vd used the last bit of toilet paper on the roll. Holy cow, not only am I cleaning up one of the three P's, I'm replacing the toilet paper. Don't I get enough of this at home?

I looked around the room and said to myself, "This place is so pretty I should probably fold the ends over."

Yeah, great idea. Pretend you're in a five-star hotel and you're the maid.



Seriously, what's wrong with me? (But this is why t.p. always goes OVER the roll, not under).

I inform the nurse that there's been an accident and I can't possibly produce another drop. After conferring with the doctor and getting permission the nurse hands me a biohazard kit.



I leave the office, comforted in the fact that I can work on apple juice in the privacy of my own home, where I'll probably have to replace the toilet paper also.

The next task on my list for the day was to get an oil change.

Can you guess what's coming next?

BATHROOM NUMBER 2 -

I pull the car just inside the bay doors, refusing to drive up onto the tracks. No way. This guy is gonna have to do it himself. I'm not risking driving The Farmer's car into the grease pit. And believe me, it's a distinct possibility.

Moments later as I'm sitting in the marginally clean waiting room disaster strikes. I GOTTA GO! Bad. Really, really bad. Five minutes earlier I couldn't produce a molecule and now Niagara Falls is threatening to be unleashed. The bathroom is just behind the counter. Oh no. It's the grease monkey's combination closet/bathroom, and it's full of their uniform shirts on hangers. I do spot a vacuum just inside the door. That's a hopeful sign. They seem to be clean grease monkeys. Maybe it's not so bad.

I close the door and struggle to lock it behind me. When I turn around what do I see? THE SEAT IS UP! How cozy, just like home. Martha would be so proud of me. I fashioned a delightful and pristine seat cover out of paper towels, and followed up with a vigorous hand washing under scalding hot water. My hands were impeccably clean. And that's a good thing because................

I immediately drove myself to Krispy Kreme.



Five minutes later I was feeling much better.