Monday, January 26, 2009

Six weeks without a Toilet

Today I feel like a trapped mouse in a maze.

At work, the office building is being painted, and the bathrooms are being gutted out. The windows are covered with plastic, and we have no working toilet. Sure, there are porta potties out there in the parking lot-but who wants to use those? They even took our water fountain out of the building. To make matters worse, it is freezing cold in my office. I feel like I’m working in a 3 World Country. If it wasn’t for the hand disinfectant we have in the front office, we can’t even clean our hands. There is no running water for my plants either. We were told that we will have to use the porta potties for SIX WEEKS until the bathrooms will be completely ready for our butts to sit down on the new freaken “golden” toilets. Six, freaken weeks! Why on Earth does it take SIX weeks to replace a bathroom?! Don’t we live in America for God’s sake?

I have five choices: 1. Use the porta pottie in the parking lot. Okay, it’s locked, and only people working in the building can use them, but they stink! I will only use it for only if I’m desperate. 2. Use the toilet at the gas station. That is almost worse than the porta pottie-we won’t even go there. 3. Use the toilet at the restaurant behind the building. Okay, that would work, IF I happen to eat there everyday. 4. Go across the street to the county building-that works. Or, finally 5: “Keep it in” until I get to my mother’s house. I guess I could just cross my legs a lot during working hours and not consume any beverages. Lovely. Like my Portuguese friend Maria suggested, I can always hide a commode under my desk. Ha ha ha ha..

Talk about Old School Toilets! Way back in 1971, one of my earliest childhood memories involve seeing my great aunt (Tia Mariquinhas) sitting on a commode. Great memory huh? I was sleeping up there in a loft with my sister, and my mother’s younger cousins, and Tia Mariquinhas was up there with us to watch over us. In the middle of the night, I woke up, and to my utter surprise, there, sitting in the middle of the loft was Tia Mariquinhas sitting on a pot. I hid my head under the covers so she would not see.

It’s been almost a week since I’ve produced an entry! Is it just me, or is this month just flying by very quickly? Last week I was not feeling very well, but today I’m feeling much better. My stomach was doing strange achy things, and this weekend it felt like there was a rubber band tightly strapped around my head. Today, I do feel better.

Today is my daughter’s first day of college courses at her new art university. She is thrilled beyond belief and took the train this morning to downtown San Francisco. San Francisco is a beautiful city, but I’m still feeling a little frightful of the city scene. There are good places, pretty places, and not so pretty places, and scary places. Last week I accompanied her on her one of her orientation days, and at one point we walked a number of blocks through the city. It wasn’t hard to notice all the attention my daughter was getting from various men walking down the street. She was getting the “eye” from the majority of them—from the nicely suited businessmen, to the smelly bum holding a paper bag. It’s not a vision any mother likes to think of, I’m sure. Lizzy of course thought it was all very funny. Apparently, she is used to the attention and it doesn’t bother her one bit. We stopped at a street light, and she asks me if I could adjust the spaghetti straps to her blouse in the back. I really didn’t think it was an appropriate place to do this, because there were men to the side of us, and they were too close to comfort in my opinion. I felt very uncomfortable with it, and told her that we would do it once we got across the street, behind that tree at the next building so no one would see us. Of course Liz thought this all very silly and laughed when I told her about these various men in San Francisco given her second looks.

“Mom, would you be happier if I was ugly?”

Of course I wouldn’t be happier. I just don’t think I’m ever going to grow out of being the worried, protective, nervous mother hen. I may be slowly turning into my mother.

It’s a gloomy, cold Monday, and I have been crossing my legs the whole time while writing this. I think it’s time to head across the street to use the bathroom facilities. Have a wonderful week, y’all!


Jan said...

Now that is a problem ,hmm Idont know what to suggest ,as for your lovely daughter ahhh bless her oh to be young and lovely again hee hee .love Jan xx

Missie said...

I'd have a big problem. I have a phobia about porta potties. I can't step in one!

Just Bill said...

Julie, oh the problems you have. the first one will pass (six weeks is not a lifetime0. Didn't you ever have to use an outhouse in the back yard?
The second problem (your daughter) will never pass. That is why children have Mothers, so that they will always know she is watching and protecting them You will have to suffer with that one, Stay warm and dry, Bill

Jimmy's Journal said...

I wouldn't use a port-a-pottie unless I was near death. I'm afraid I'd just go AWOL if I had to go badly. Good Luck !


lisa jo said...

you just won the subject title of the month. You make me laugh, so funny.
i know how you feel...Megan attracts those looks and she not see it nor want it. I see it and just get nervous. HUGE congrats on your daughter doing something she loves.
porta potties are bad....EWW. DOUBLE EWW.

Indigo said...

I get weird about public restrooms, let alone porta potties. I used to got to huge outdoor festivals for bands. I used to grab a friend and find the nearest woods, before I would use the porta potties.

It's the strangest thing seeing your daughter get attention like that isn't it? It happens all the time with Skye. I have all I can do not to tell them to keep their eyes in their head. (Hugs)Indigo