I walk into the bathroom on 35 and it seems empty, but as the door closes i hear a strange rasping noise from the open stall at the end of the row. I slowly approach the stall and peer around its corner cautiously, hoping not to find any half-naked strangely rasping co-workers slumped Elvis-style over the throne. It is empty.
As I wash my hands I hear the noise again, but do not bother to investigate. Maybe if I am lucky I will find myself cast in a real world retread of the classic Gremlins 2, where the sneaky critters invade an otherwise innocuous office building and precede to wreak havoc upon its unwitting staff. A worthy sequel to an already campy first flick.
Careful not to touch anything that might re-germ my now sanitized hands, I think am I unwitting?, closely followed by Surely there were a couple of people who died in bathrooms. I really ought to buy the DVD to check that out.
Two minutes later I am back at my desk firing off an email about compiling a master style guide for our department. So, essentially, you’ve just been missing out on my trips to the bathroom.
Oh, and I won a wine-drinking contest, bought four pairs of shoes, saw X2, passively participated in buying a new house, and wrote a song with Gina. But, really, that’s about it.