If we only could Garfield. If we only could.
Monday deserves all the flack it gets. It’s the most awful day of all the days in the week. There are few sentences more beautiful in the history of man than, “There will be no faculty meeting today”. Don’t get me wrong, being informed and in-serviced is crazy important, but Mondays are the worst. After working hard to leave no child behind and the horror that is Monday, staying after work for a Monday afternoon meeting is not always fun.
One particularly unfun Monday afternoon, we were having a long faculty meeting. It was one of those really important meetings where a ton of information was being disseminated all at once. Not a terrible thing really; that’s the way it goes sometimes. Being the ever attentive audience member I always am, I was paying 110% attention. Unfortunately, nobody told my bladder to wait until the meeting was over to start harassing me.
Now, you may not know this but teachers are notorious for ‘holding it’ too long. With all the things we have to do in a day and our tight schedules, going to the bathroom is often a low priority. On this day, that was most certainly the case for me. I found myself in that precarious position of being on the verge of an embarrassing situation. So, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Everything went according to plan until it was time to flush the toilet.
I have very valid issues about touching any public toilet handle. It is revolting. I won’t touch it, and you shouldn’t either. Toilet handles are the single most germ infested object in any bathroom. I have absolutely no science to support that statement so you will just have to trust me.
I always choose to flush the toilet with my foot like a lady. On that particular Monday, I totally misjudged the distance between my foot and the handle. My new, cute sandal lightly touched the tip of the handle and flew off my foot, and my foot fell straight into the toilet! I screamed bloody murder and flailed my arms like a banshee.
A few things I learned that day: When you are standing on one foot while your other foot is in a disgusting public toilet and you are screaming and flailing your arms like a banshee, it is very likely you will lose your balance and fall down. It is also likely that toilet water will go everywhere including on your face. Your new, cute sandals will be considered forever unclean by you even though they didn’t even fall into the toilet. They are unclean by proxy, therefore, requiring disposal. While I rested on the teachers’ bathroom floor, cold and a little wet, I thought about how happy I was just a few minutes before. How did I miss the handle? What did I do wrong? Would the shoe store take the sandals back? Why didn’t anybody check on me, I was screaming my head off?! If I had died, they all would have been sorry.
I got up and washed my face and foot in the sink. I’m not ashamed to admit I cried. I cried for my foot. I cried for my pants. I cried for my cute, unclean sandals I would never wear again. I cried because I was just lying on a dirty, germ infested public bathroom floor at an elementary school. After I cleaned myself off and dried my tears, I rolled my pants’ leg up and walked to the library to rejoin the faculty meeting.