I'm about to tell you a story that completely horrifies me, and the fact that I am sharing this with y'all should make you feel incredibly loved.
As the name of this little website suggests, I am slightly neurotic. One thing I am slightly neurotic about is bathrooms. Public restrooms completely creep me out. That's fairly normal. I'm so neurotic that even the bathrooms in peoples homes or my workplace freak me out. I've been known to wait all day just so that I could get home and use my own bathroom rather than have to use the one at work, which was a pretty nice bathroom as far as bathrooms go. In fact, when Jeff and I were dating, I cut short several dates because I refused to use the bathroom at his house. I'm very shy about these things.
So yesterday I am at Target when I get hit with the worse stomach bug of my life. I had no choice. I had to use their bathroom.
To make matters worse, I couldn't take my purchases in with me so I had to leave them at the gift services desk. This was fine the first time. By the third time, I was totally mortified. Especially when the lady asked me if I'd like for her to get me some medicine.
So I'm in this stall at Target, thinking about how my day could not possibly get any worse, when I hear a woman and her kid enter. Great, not only am I sick, but now there are people in here with me and the desk services lady is tracking my bathroom habits. My need for privacy has been totally shattered.
The thing about thinking that things can't get any worse is that you're always wrong about that. They totally can.
I'm crying at this point, because I'm PMSing and my hormones are out of control and I don't feel well and I'm dreading going back to the gift services desk and that's when I hear it.
The woman washing her hands. A little boy of about three singing. The pitter patter of little hands and feet. Nearing my stall.
I held my breath. Surely this was not going to happen to me.
Two seconds later that little boy CRAWLS UNDER MY STALL, looks up at me and says "HIYA!"
And I like little kids. I do. I want to have one even.
But I have to tell you, in that moment I did not seem like someone who likes kids. Or even tolerates kids. Or even is sane.
I might have scared both the child and his mother with my crazy shrieking. I will neither confirm or deny such allegations.
