Last year I identified a workplace poop toilet for myself. It’s in the next building over. It’s a single toilet. A men’s toilet. It’s outside a large office in which only women work. So this toilet is always unused. Always clean. Always private. If I (rarely ever) need to poop at work, this is where I go.

Today I was on my way and a work acquaintance intercepted me. Every turn I took, he seemed to be going the same way and was telling me about his mother’s fractured hip along the way. I had to walk twice as far beyond where I intended and finally shook him with a bogus excuse for needing to go to some unrelated department; and then had to check around corners while I double back.

I’ve made it though. Just wanted to update you all about this while I’m on the throne.