PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I believe in siestas. I've never lived or worked anywhere that allowed for them (well, college, I suppose, but that was a completely different state of affairs, mostly inebriated). Today, I felt myself drooping and sagging after lunch (and feeling a bit carsick on top of that, go figure, since I'm driving a DESK.) So I retreated to the only place nobody will burst in on you: the restroom. I always try to frequent the handicapped stall, because you can rest your elbow on one of the metal bars, and slouch your face into your hand and sort of get all stupor while you sit there & hope nobody else comes in and you have to busy yourself up like you're actually, well, doin' some bidness.

But, alas, it's not just the squeak of the door and the click of a co-worker's shoes on the tile to wrench you out of that glorified state. We have the autoflushers on our toilets. Which I've talked about before, and unfortunately, they seem to be on HIGH ALERT for potential non-flusher users. I was in the restroom for under 6 minutes, doing NOTHING, and the toilet auto-flushed no less than 10 times. Whether it's the light reflecting off my shirt, or the settings, or what, I don't know what it is that makes it so flush-happy. But it really interferes with trying to catch a moment of peace, let me tell you right now.

So, I'm drinking more Diet Coke to get myself peppy & caffeinnated.....and, as we all know, the more we drink? The more we have to pee. Sigh. Me & the autoflusher. Friend? Enemy? Both?