A Room Of One's Own

Okay:

I'm sure most of you can appreciate this.

I work in one of those new fandangled schools that is inconveniently located in an office building. It's all the rave round here in DC. These people open up these private and charter schools and instead of leasing an old school building or building a new one, they lease office space or old warehouses. In Columbia Heights there is a charter school above the CVS.

Seems cool at first to have a school in a creative space until you have to tackle the issue of multi-purpose rooms. Most office buildings don't have gymnasiums or performance space. But who cares about that, right?

One benefit, however, is that these buildings typically have pristine rest rooms. Something you're just not going to find in an old school building. Which brings me to my point. Something I am sure you all can appreciate.

I have found the perfect place to take a shit at work.

I am almost afraid to tell you, for fear that one of my coworkers may be reading this and may try to muscle in on my spot.

The company that runs my school (I know that sounds funny but my school is actually an incorporated for-profit business) recently acquired the seventh floor of the building for the executive and business offices. The walls are all made of glass and there is a brilliant view of Rock Creek Park. They share the floor with a hospice and you could hear a gnat fart up there. I'm not sure but I think they have Enigma playing softly in the background. It smells like potpourri.

This is in sharp contrast to the fifth floor where I work. As soon as you get off the elevator you smell armpits and hot moist crotches. You hear teenagers cursing each other out at maximum volume. It's like a 24-hour liquor store except the walls are painted primary colors. You can't take a shit there. I gotta get zen to handle my business. And if it already smells like shit, then my shit won't come out. My shit is shy. And jealous. It wants to be the only shit in the room.

My shit needs complete silence and a non-threatening atmosphere before it will even consider coming out. Plus, high schools these days are teeming with STDs. I'm not going to expose my behind-hole to that kind of risk.

The seventh floor, however, has a door with one of those combination locks on it. You have to know the code to get up in there. Every morning this week, about an hour after my morning cup of coffee, I take some reading material with me and go have my AM squat. I pinch my load in the calming solitude of an empty bathroom.

Next week, I'm going to pack a bag. I'm going to bring toilet paper from home because they've got that cheap recycled burlap shit up there. It's got the little brown dots on it. I need me some Charmin or Northern or something. Two things you should never skimp on: toilet paper and condoms. In both situations, go top of the line. There is a difference.

And some baby wipes. It's the only way to do a halfway decent job.

I'd also like to bring me up a footstool or something. Putting my feet up helps get things moving.

And maybe a small clock radio so I can listen to NPR.

Thanks for reading.

GO OBAMA!

REDSKINS TO THE BOWL!

Confession: When I have an overnight guest, in the morning I pretend like I'm going to the kitchen for a glass of water so I can get rid of my AM gas, which could take several minutes.