This is priceless and I can’t believe that Loretta sent it to me. Does she secretly know that one of my biggest pet peeves is the dreaded PUBLIC RESTROOM! I hate them and after you read this little ditty below, it should be more than clear to you.
ISN’T THIS THE TRUTH ??????When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usuallyfind a line of women, so you smile politely and takeyour place. Once it’s your turn, you check for feetunder the stall doors.
Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knockingDown the woman leaving the stall.You get in to find the door won’t latch. It doesn’tmatter, the wait has been so long you are about to wetyour pants! The dispenser for the modern “seat covers”(invented by someone’s Mom, no doubt) is handy, butempty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, ifthere was one, but there isn’t – so you carefully, butquickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turnover in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yankdown your pants, and assume ” The Stance.” In this position your aging, toneless thigh musclesbegin to shake. You’d love to sit down, but youcertainly hadn’t taken time to wipe the seat or laytoilet paper on it, so you hold “The Stance.”
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reachfor what you discover to be the empty toilet paperdispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother’s voice saying, “Honey, if you had tried to clean theseat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!”Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your noseon yesterday – the one that’s still in your purse. (Ohyeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you haveto hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the sametime). That would have to do. You crumple it in thepuffiest way possible. It’s still smaller than yourthumbnail
Someone pushes your door open because the latchdoesn’t work. The door hits your purse, which ishanging around your neck in front of your chest, andyou and your purse topple backward against the tank ofthe toilet. “Occupied!” you scream, as you reach forthe door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpledtissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footingaltogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILETSEAT. It is wet of course.
You bolt up, knowing all too well that it’s too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form onthe uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toiletpaper – not that there was any, even if you had takentime to try. You know that your mother would beutterly appalled if she knew, because, you’re certainher bare bottom never touched a public toilet seatbecause, frankly, dear, “You just don’t KNOW what kindof diseases you could get.”
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of thetoilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling astream of water like a fire hose against the inside ofthe bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that coversyour butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.The flush somehow sucks everything down with suchforce that you grab onto the empty toilet paperdispenser for fear of being dragged in too.At this point, you give up.
You’re soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You’re exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper youfound in your pocket and then slink outinconspicuously to the sinks. You can’t figure out how to operate the faucets withthe automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line ofwomen still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. Akind soul at the very end of the line points out apiece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Wherewas that when you NEEDED it?? ) You yank the paperfrom your shoe, plunk it in the woman’s hand and tellher warmly, “Here, you just might need this.”
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men’s restroom. Annoyed,he asks, “What took you so long, and why is yourpurse hanging around your neck?”
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with apublic restrooms (rest??? you’ve GOT to be kidding!!).It finally explains to the men what really does takeus so long. It also answers their other commonly askedquestions about why women go to the restroom in pairs.It’s so the other gal can hold the door, hang ontoyour purse and hand you Kleenex under the door! This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!