Yesterday, I went to Sam’s Wholesale Club to purchase large amounts of various food stuffs at low low prices.
And one of my Pavlovian responses to entering the doors at Sam’s is that I must then urinate. I don’t know why. There’s just something about showing my card to a bored employee wearing a smock and a truss belt that makes me have to go tinkle.
It has never occurred to me that I have memorized which side of the “restroom alcove” the Women’s bathroom is on. It’s sad, actually, that it has become so much of a habit that I don’t even look to see which door I am entering, be it Women’s or Men’s… I just enter the alcove and swing to the left as fast as my little legs can take me. You know, it’s all conditioning. I must pee within 45 seconds of entering Sam’s or I cannot be held responsible for the outcome. It will not be pretty.
They’re doing a lot of remodeling at Sam’s. I knew this.
I did not realize that it also included remodeling the bathrooms.
Whatever Sam’s genius is involved in making their intense corporate decisions had deigned that they should switch around the Men’s and the Women’s bathrooms. Thus the Men’s would be where the Women’s bathroom once was.
And no one conferred with me on this matter.
I rushed into the Women’s bathroom and was a little disoriented. The room had changed. It was now very strange. The stalls were no longer in the same places.
And that’s when I saw him.
And he saw me.
I saw some poor man peeing into a urinal at Sam’s Wholesale Club.
I fled from the Men’s bathroom, with nary an “Excuse Me” or anything. The worst part was that a woman who was entering the Women’s bathroom (the correct Women’s bathroom, that is) SAW me exit the Men’s bathroom and enter the Women’s. She then proceeded to talk to me about how they switched the bathrooms around as she peed in the stall next to mine.
I can’t pee when someone’s talking to me. It’s all related to my intense Lutheran upbringing. We’re repressed that way. No sounds in the bathroom other than gentle tinkling. Pretend that you are alone and are doing something OTHER THAN WHAT YOU ARE DOING. Do not acknowledge anyone. Wash your hands. Don’t touch the flusher thing because that’s acky.
You know, the Lutheran Bathroom Rules.
Anyway, I then had to wait, sitting on the toilet for Chatty Bathroom Lady to leave. Then and only then could I pee. It’s strange isn’t it? I mean, had I not gotten to the bathroom, I would have undoubtedly peed my pants, yet when my ass is hanging over the toilet, the floodgates will not budge if someone is talking to me from the next stall. Thus the Lutheran Bathroom Rules must be stronger than desire to not soil one’s own pants with urine.
Then I waited about twenty minutes to make sure that I would not encounter the peeing guy when I walked out of the bathroom.
Nothing much other than that happened at Sam’s. The cashier lady broke the bag of cat litter when she slammed it into my cart, and then she acted as though it already had a hole in the bag, but that was about it.
This morning, I went golfing with my Aunt (not the one who starves her kids, this is the one who tries to feed those kids and gets in trouble for it). It was very lovely. I lost three balls.
She was impressed with my driving prowess, and I must admit that I impressed myself too. My problem is that I can make the ball go 400 yards in three hits, but then I take 8 hits to make it go 15 feet. That screws up my score big time, as you can imagine.
It felt very good to be out on the golf course. I didn’t drink though, because it was only 10 o’clock in the morning. I did look cute, though, so it was a morning well spent.
We saw some ducks on the course. My aunt fed them (again with the feeding! She’s so concerned that the world is starving) some string cheese and then they followed us for four holes. It was kind of funny to see them, four white ducks, waddling in a line towards us.
Ducks cannot outrun a golf cart, however.
Esteban and Ward are putting in our shower stall as I’m writing this. I’m pretty happy that it doesn’t involve turning off the water. I may actually get to paint the bathroom. Everything snowballs when you own an older home. We’ve spent $1000 and I haven’t even purchased the paint yet.
I hope that everyone has a safe and happy weekend. And remember, if you’re going to drink and drive, that’s fine, as long as the vehicle you are driving is a golf cart. And try to avoid the ducks. The other golfers point and laugh at you when you are being chased by ducks.
Not that I know this from experience or anything.
I’m just saying.
