Yesterday was one of those weird ones where a confluence of the absurd should have caused me great distress, but was so improbable and ridiculous as to make me laugh at it all instead.
It started first thing as Sheri gave me new bottle of hair conditioner that she won’t be using. I just used up another bottle of the same brand and liked the rosemary herbal scent. I was happy to get the new one and planned to use it during my morning shower.
So I showered. I shampooed. I rinsed. I put on the new conditioner and started rubbing it in. It smelled great. It sure foamed up nicely.
Huh? Foaming conditioner?
Let me look at that bottle. Oh! It’s shampoo! YAAY!
So I finished lathering (again) and rinsed (again) and used a different conditioner on my extremely clean hair. This will serve as a lesson to me to read the bottle before using the product. I’m glad it wasn’t Nair.
Morning beautification processed complete, I took my vitamins, meds, got dressed, headed out the door. For logistical reasons, I usually drive to work on Wednesdays. Plus I enjoy my car. It’s a nice place to be.
The drive in was, by far, my longest drive to work in Denver, possibly ever. In light-to-moderate traffic, my drive is usually around 20 minutes. I-25 was backed up as soon as I got on and stayed backed up for five miles until right after a fairly minor-looking accident on the left shoulder. The cars involved were sticking out into the left lane enough that a police cruiser with lights flashing had block the left lane. Hence the multi-mile slowdown.
Once past the accident, traffic was back up to cruising speed. For another mile. And then on the brakes again. This was about 40 minutes into my 20 minute drive.
After about 15 slow minutes and couple of miles, there was another accident, this one entirely off the road but still slowing things down. YAAY!
By now my diuretic had kicked in and it was time to pee. With a vengeance. Fortunately the rest of the drive was at regular speeds and I arrived after over an hour on the road.
I usually park at the Pepsi Center parking lot, but I knew the 3-block walk to my office would be painful, possibly wet, so I opted to park in front of my office and feed the meter for a few minutes while I did what needed to be done. I could move the car to the Pepsi Center lot once my immediate biological needs had been taken care of.
My office building has two entrances: front and side. The side entrance is the shorter route, so I went to that one. It was locked, and I don’t have a building key. Oh $deity, why are you blocking my access to blessed relief? The added stress of denied access didn’t help the mounting internal pressure any.
I did the pee-pee walk (you all know it so I won’t describe it) to the front door and down the hall, unlocking the office fumbling with the key while doing so. I had the piss jitter.
We have a private restroom in the office. I trotted to it, jacket still on, backpack perched on my back. And the light was on. Occupado! Damn.
Fortunately, there are public restrooms in the hall, so my options were not exhausted. I grabbed one of the keys to them from the office coat closet and went to the men’s room.
All systems go! Open the flood gates. Ahhhhhhh … finally. That felt good.
The water started climbing up in the urinal and got to the tippy top. No! Do. Not. Overflow. There’s that moment of sheer terror as you watch the water rise and hope it stops before overflowing. It usually does. Today was not that day. Over the top it went and onto the floor. And it didn’t stop. kept right on coming. Lovely.
This is where you’re at a crossroads. Do you jiggle the handle and hope that stops the flow or do you just hope it stops on its own accord? I opted to the route of least resistance: doing nothing but staring in shame as the diluted product of my kidneys poured out upon the lovely stone tile in the bathroom.
The amount spilled onto the flooe wasn’t that much: not gallons, but certainly more than a few ounces.It was, however, way too much to soak up with paper towels. So I did the only thing I could think of: I went back to work.
About an hour later, I realized that the private office bathroom was still occupied. Hmmm… so I went over and checked the occupancy by knocking (no answer) and then entering.
Empty. Nobody home. Sans occupant.
I guess someone left the light on from the night before. At this point, there was way too much silliness to worry about anything. My bladder was blessedly empty and the mess of the public restroom behind me. So I chuckled at my weird luck and did the only thing I could think of: I went back to work.