So, at least I'll be prepared when my soul is being broken on a wheel for my seething anger. My hell is a disgusting bathroom.
I cannot remember or think of why I didn't write about the foul bathrooms at the gym and work last week. Possibly because it was so fucking depressing, I just wanted to try to forget about it.
The bathroom trolls at work have now flooded the bathroom twice in the last week -- late last week and again today. There had been days where it probably happened before, but it was contained to a stall or so. It was so bad today that the carpet outside the stalls area was wet. I'm sure the smell will be fan-fucking-tastic in no time. It's gotten so bad there some days I'll walk in at the end of the day and turn around and walk out, vowing to wait until I get home. And that is no small feat for me, y'all. We're talking major peegasm by the time I get home.
I had to hold it at the gym last week, too. Another walk in, and walk out because I can't even stand to be in there. Again, no small feat. Especially with all the bending and whatnot in yoga. Needless to say there were no errands afterward.
Look, I'm not some sort of prissy whiner who will only whiz in a pristine bathroom. I have peed under less-than-ideal conditions countless times. I've popped a squat on the sides of a gravel roads, in the woods, the middle of soybean and corn fields and outside numerous house parties -- some of them in Minneapolis. I have peed in hundreds of port-a-potties at busy summer block parties and festivals (the port-a-loos at the Bryant Lake Bowl block party for Pride are always in astonishingly good condition), not to mention bathrooms in busy bars, rest stops and public parks. I peed in The Boy I Currently Like's bathroom at his shithole old apartment (though, I will freely admit I thank the Baby Jebus I never had to shower there). I SQUATTED OVER A HOLE IN THE FLOOR IN MEXICO, FOR FUCK'S SAKE.
And you know what? I would take that hole in the floor in that bar in Zihuatanjeo, or any of the other seatless toilets in that city, over the bathroom at work or at the gym. Why? Because there was no poo, pee or blood smeared on the walls or floor. There were no female catheter packages, no used tampon applicators, no likely-used wads of toilet paper or bloody paper towels on the floor of around the hole. That bathroom was fucking pristine. And beautiful.
There is no end in sight for this. It's probably compounded by the horrible realization that given the amount of time I spend work and the gym during any given week, I spend more time peeing in those god-awful bathrooms than I do peeing in my own bathroom. Please kill me now.