I often get lost in thought.
Co-workers regularly find me staring off, gazing at my grey speckled cubical wall, trying to piece together a project I’m working on.
A smell, a phrase, a song on the radio can take me to a memory that I want to go back to and reminisce with for a minute.
To remember the details, the faces, the beauty of that moment.
Or the tears, the darkness, and the loneliness that once was.
Today was no exception.
I don’t even remember what caused my pause in activity, freezing me in my spot, calling to mind the passage of time for just a moment.
But I should have been paying more attention
I shouldn’t have let it get out of hand.
When I entered the bathroom today, at work, and it was empty I was ecstatic. Not because I want to attempt a fly by poo, but because I did not want to speak to anyone.
The bathroom is not the place.
Let it be known that I do not poo at work.
I think it’s revolting.
If you poo at work, git ‘er done. But I do not. I need privacy, my own bathroom, and a relaxed environment free of the threat of incoming co-workers who want to chat through the metal dividers about their cats.
So there I sat, lost in thought, enjoying a memory that I cannot remember now and then I heard the faucet turn on.
OMG! Someone had come in and was finished up while I was still sitting there.
It would have appeared to them that I was waiting for them to leave so I could finish a big giant deuce.
I was mortified.
I do not poo at work!
Because of my reminiscing with memories, everyone thinks that I do.