There’s 30 minutes left of class when nature calls. I consider holding it, but I know that if I do I’ll end up spending the last five minutes of the lesson squirming rather teaching. And besides the restrooms are only a few steps away. I could be there and back in less than 30 seconds.
So, I excuse myself . . .
Outside the restroom is a yellow slippery when wet sign and a cleaning lady’s cart. I pop in anyways only to find a youngish cleaning woman scrubbing down a urinal.
If it were an old lady, I probably wouldn’t have been so shy, but . . . Well, you know.
So, I backpedal out the restroom and run down a flight of stairs to the fourth floor where I find another slippery when wet sign and another cleaning lady going about her business.
Back out and down another flight of stairs and—dammit—another cleaning lady.
Second floor it's the same—This is getting fucking ridiculous—I jump in an elevator and go up to the sixth floor and, dammit, same deal. So, I hump up a flight of stairs to the seventh floor where—Praise the Lord!—there’s finally no cleaning lady and not a minute too soon.
The building at this uni is brand spanking new and spotless. After this morning’s game of cat and mouse, it’s no wonder why.
Keep up the good work, ladies, but please give me a heads up next time.