I am perturbed. I needed to wee. And because Wallace & Grommit haven’t come up with some sort of catheter device for women that people won’t trip over (which would then promptly make you piddle down your pants). I had to lift buttocks and stomp off to the loo.
Up I got, and off to our swanky new bathrooms I went. As I walked in, a young very well dressed lady came out of the loo, walked right past me and out of the door!
Egads! I cried. Do we not wash our hands anymore? Now if this young lady likes to wipe her botty / bits and then not wash her hands but rather likes to walk around touching stuff (I always imagine it to be my coffee cup, and in my usual daydreams she’s not just touching it, but licking it too ) well then that’s dandy.
Well… actually it’s not dandy! Touch my coffee cup and it’s onnnnnnnnn!!
However, what is the point of ME, washing MY hands, and then having to touch the same door handle that SHE just touched with her face-eating bacteria on it?
*Sits in bathroom yelling for help*
“It’s getting dark….”
“So…. Cold…. Vrrrrrrrr… so… cold”