On one recent day, I had brought my exercise clothes with me to work. I could conveniently walk over to the gym once I had finished my job, change in a bathroom stall, and lose little time in the process. This was not my first attempt at saving time this way. I had done this multiple times before, and I never had any difficulties.
At some point, I discovered that our school gym had a locker room for changing, but it was separated by a few hallways, and again, it would save me more time to just change in the bathroom a few footsteps away from the gym. Maybe, I would have felt awkward about taking one of the two available stalls, if other women had actually used that bathroom. Each time I went in, I was alone. Except for this one time.
It started off per usual. I walked in and had my choice between the two stalls. I went towards the larger one, but found that the toilet water was nearly clean . . . but not completely clean. Why, in that moment did I not just flush it and go forward with my plan? I don’t know. But, I bailed on my bathroom base and went to the other stall.
Instantly upon entering the small quarters, I grimaced. It confined me. No leg room, no arm room, no room for me. I quickly decided to go into the other stall and flush.
As I made my switch, someone else entered the bathroom and I slipped into the larger stall before this person could claim it. I needed that space for changing, and since she would leave shortly after using the toilet, it made sense to me that I should take the larger stall.
For some reason, her presence had changed my plan. I no longer felt comfortable flushing the toilet first. If a person flushes a toilet, they usually exit after a few seconds and then wash their hands. Well, what would the girl think if I flushed it and stayed in the stall?
Fortunately, she’d probably think something logical, or she wouldn’t care to think about it at all. Unfortunately, I was not thinking logically, and I thought about it too much.
I decided to wait until she left and then I’d flush the toilet. She’d surely be gone within three minutes. Until then, I would unpack my clothes and begin to change. I put my running shoes on the floor. I placed my shirt and shorts on the shelf above the toilet. I put one rolled up sock on the shelf and then the other . . . and then the other rolled up sock rolled down and plopped! It splashed into the almost clean toilet water.
My shoulders went up and my head stared down at the disaster. Disgusting.
I couldn’t abandon it, though. I picked up a (thankfully) dry end of the sock and dropped it into my drawstring bag. My head shook endlessly. Not only did I now have a contaminated sock and bag to wash, but the person hadn’t left. She had heard the entire thing.
After a few minutes, I deduced that she had come to the bathroom for the same reason as I, to change. I slowly switched shirts and shorts, so that I could ensure she left first, and so that I would not come face-to-face with the woman who had heard it all.
My plan worked and she left first. I slipped on my shoes with no socks. That created a different kind of disturbance as my sweat could directly interact with the insoles of my shoes during that workout. Eventually, I returned home and ran those items in the wash with my other dirty clothes.
I had learned my lesson: Suck it up and flush the toilet first.
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