Monday, November 17, 2008
Outside of the suite of faculty offices sit two bathrooms, side by side. Women. Men. These are closet-size bathrooms for one -- just the basics, folks.
Now, the Women's Restroom is very busy. Its door? Revolving. Sometimes, there's a line. For about ten minutes before and after a flurry of classes start and end, there is always a line.
Remember, the Matron has a bladder the size of a pea. Thanks to a prolapsed uterus -- wait, thanks to MERRICK who weighed TEN POUNDS at birth--that pea now hoists up her football stadium-sized sagging sack of a uterus.
It took about 1/2 work day and thirty thousand trips to that bathroom and just ONE minute waiting in line for the Matron to decide to skip all this nonsense and use the Men's Restroom when the Women's was in Party mode. She never ever has to wait.
No man is aghast when she exits, either.
But the women?
Girlfriends! Men are not responsible for cleaning this bathroom! No, there is a very fine team of Janitorial staff, men and women, who get paid for keeping both bathrooms clean. And they are. The adult men using this toilet don't appear to have the Stream-Aim-Fire problem that leaves her own bathroom at home, well, messy.
Then there's this.
Merrick in bathroom: "Daddy! Daddy! Let's fight with out pee swords!" Everyone with a penis comes running and they ring around that potty and slash each other's pee. In the meantime, Scarlett and the Matron are busy deploying their own Uterine Tracking Devices to locate all the things the males lost or dropped or forgot about while they were playing with urine.
So this college sanitary Pee War Free Zone is just lovely. The toilet is scrubbed, daily. The sink and floor are clean. There's always plenty of toilet paper and paper towel.
The Matron has tried to convert the sisterhood, but they'll have none of it. Here's the Matron, sauntering past the line of women, waiting: "Use the men's bathroom. I do it all the time!"
Here's what she gets in return for that very fine unsolicted advice.
No way. That's disgusting!!
Today, one young woman actually recoiled in horror. Consider that phrase for a moment -- we've all heard it. Recoiled in horror when the Matron suggested sullying herself so. Given that said young woman could have been seen exchanging salivia with her boyfriend about ten minutes earlier, the Matron thought her a complete hypocrite, all "boy germs' and such.
Then again, that young woman's uterus -- and breasts -- are probably sitting all high where they should be, she probably doesn't have children who sit in closets, build laptops or revel in warfare, and she isn't spending her mornings checking the house for rabid bats.
So the Matron wil continue to use the Men's Restroom. She's special that way! And in some others. . . .