it's friday, dreary. a slow, cold, rainy day that demands mid-day naps on the couch under heaps of blankets, not updating databases and running reports.
something had to be done to save this day.
as i watched a fellow office mate spend four minutes scrubbing up to her elbows in the ladies' room, i had an idea. maybe it's my inner jim. who's to say. whatever triggered the impulse, it seemed like the perfect way to liven up a friday afternoon.
13:15 EST - coast is clear. entered the ladies room. placed open lipstick on the shelf by the mirror, in case some came in and i had to look busy. jimmied open the toilet seat cover dispenser and took out the full pack. quickly stuffed into the garbage. closed the dispenser. washed hands a few times - part homage to irony, part hoping to fill the garbage up with paper towels to cover the confiscated paper seat covers.
13:17 EST - inform office co-conspirator of my plan. waited until after the deed was done - didn't want to be talked out of it.
13:18 EST - loud guffaws from the co-conspirator's office. plan well-received.
13:19 EST - back in my cube. am close enough to the restroom to hear the door open and close (and the toilet flush. that discussion is for another day). the clock on the wall ticks loudly, like a little unsanitary bomb just waiting to go off. i wait.
13:54 EST - the janitor makes an unscheduled mid-day appearance to the sixth floor. am giddy that my plan has already worked.
13:58 EST - janitor leaves.
13:59 EST - check the ladies room. no new paper seat covers, but the dispenser has been opened. the cover hangs down, announcing to the world that it's empty. who opened it?
14:02 EST - an unidentified woman enters the ladies room (use astute deduction skills to assume it's a woman because she entered the ladies room). some rustling, no toilet flush. exits the ladies room.
14:04 EST - fake sniffle like i have to blow my nose so cube-mate won't get suspicious. re-enter ladies' room for inspection.
14:04 EST - confirm to co-conspirator that paper toilet seat covers have been replaced.
14:07-10 EST - notice three famously germ-a-phobic women enter ladies room. decided i must come up with a plan to uncover the head germ-a-phob narc.
14:13 EST - realize i still have three hours before i can go home. crap.