an open letter to the women who work on my floor

perhaps this will come as a surprise, but - can i be honest for just a moment? here's the thing. i do not like hearing you urinate, or hearing the toilet flush, or hearing you wash your hands from my desk.

i know it's strange that the ladies' room door doesn't have hinges. it's not my fault. it's because that weird lady on the floor claims to be too weak to open a hinged door. or smell flowers. (no, for real.) so please don't punish me with the sound of your pee for one of her many idiosyncrasies (or ability to get the university to bow to her ever-so-strange requests).

please close the fucking bathroom door.

i even put up a sign that says please and thank you in relation to said fucking door in about 12 different languages. i was being cute, sure. but really, i was being a bitch. because the old sign that just said, please close this door behind you clearly wasn't being understood.

ladies. seriously. i honestly can hear you peeing from my desk. and we all know the last thing i need is one more thing to drive me nuts at work.

thank you,
s

*********

i should add though that my day hasn't been all listening to women pee and then having to angrily stomp across the hall to slam the bathroom door, oh no.

this morning, as i was getting ready and b was filling our thermoses with coffee, he said to me

uh, i just opened the half and half, and a little crusty thing from the cap fell into one of the coffee thermoses. and i'm taking that one. i thought you should know.

now if that's not love, folks ...