My neurosis are running into my phobias, making love, and multiplying.
Sometimes, every once in awhile, I go to a public washroom and freak myself out a bit. Let’s take last night for example.
I was staying late at the library because it looks like I’m a busy and dedicated student when really all I am doing is updating twitter. In any case, I had consumed far too much delicious Cherry Vanilla Tea and had to book it to the (loath) public washroom. Usually these things are pretty packed, but it was almost 11pm and there was only one other person in there. There are three stalls in this washroom, and this particular person had chosen the slightly awkward position of being in the middle… thereby forcing me to practically hold hands with her while I peed. One rickety wall sure doesn’t feel like enough privacy for me.
So I’m peeing away and checking out the girl’s shoes (because that’s what I do) and I realized… she wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there. I’d been peeing for quite some time (massive bladder), so this got to be a little suspicious to me. When in all actuality she was probably just dying to be left alone to drop a deuce, I became terrified that she was actually some deformed mental hospital escapee bent on cutting me open to “see my pretty insides.” I could almost visualize her hand coming up from under the stall, twisted at an impossible angle (think the girl from the ring crawling out of the well) with long dirty purplish claws attached. Terrified, I got out of there as quickly as possible and ran for the door… at which point I smacked into someone attempting to make a bathroom visit of their own. I screamed. In the library. Not exactly incognito.
Ok, so maybe it was more of a loud yelp than a scream. Still, I’m pretty sure they think I’m the crazy one, when really, it was that insane serial killer in the bathroom that should be ostrasized. Not me. In any case, I’m working in a different building today. Don’t worry, I’m sure by now they’ve apprehended the villain.