I have a favorite toilet stall at work. Does that make me weird? I mean, of course I would love nothing more that to rest my rump on on my favorite seat at home but I can't do that 15 times a day (that is no exaggeration, I drink a lot of water) when I'm at work.
And so I have decreed that the first bathroom stall on the right is my official stall. Apparently not everyone at work received the memo. Of course it's the woman that pees on seat who doesn't read. I don't mind sharing my stall when it's not being used by me (my parents taught me to share) but I really don't like sitting in the urine of someone else, twice. And so angrily I packed my bathroom decorations and moved to different stall. The real estate isn't quite as nice but I suppose that's for the best. Friday, my first day in my new stall I sat in urine. Seriously?
I would also like to mention that during training at my job, my desk was right near the bathrooms. I will stand up in court and swear that 4 out of 5 men (I'll drop names if I have to) didn't wash their hands after they tinkled. I know because I timed them. There is no way that a man can walk into the bathroom, step up to a urinal, unbutton and unzip his pants, pull out his little wee-bee, do his business, put before mentioned wee-bee away, button and zip up, wash his hands, dry his hands and walk out the bathroom in 26 seconds. On the other hand, I though one guy had died in there. I'm really grateful my permanent desk isn't by the restrooms.
I think I broke the scale in the bathroom at work. One day it worked, and now it says I weigh 84 pounds. The scale at home says a much different number. I hate the scale at home. Nate says I'm deceptively heavy. I know this is true, I've had others mention the same thing. Nate shall live, this time.