I am sitting on the toilet seat in the middle cubicle of our speckled gray-tiled bathroom, pants done up, sneaking in a few pages of Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister when suddenly, from the other cubicle: "Ma'am?" Then, murmured: "Sino kaya ito?"
"Ako po ba?" I ask. Does this person know I'm surreptitiously reading when I'm supposed to be churning out brilliance as one of the GeeksForHire here at RedTapeCentral?
"Ma'am, pasensya na po, masama kasi yung tiyan ko..."
Is she actually telling me that she's going to go number two?!?!?!
"Wala pong problema..." I say, but she is insistent in her apologies. "Normal lang yan," I continue. But I hurriedly pack my book away. "Nababalisawsaw naman ako," I tell my unseen converser to explain my rather lengthy stay in the bathroom (because apparently she has been there a while, contemplating on her upset stomach and/or waiting for me to get out). "Pero patapos na ako."
"Sasabayan ko na lang ng flush," I hear her say from the handicapped bathroom. Well, that's what I would usually do too when I go number two here in the office. But I don't tell the other people, eh? I figure she is a very open and communicative person. Hee.
I get out of there in a jiffy. Happily, I do not even catch a whiff of her "wrongdoings," for which she had been so apologetic. But I'm glad that there are some people who are so considerate. Meanwhile, personally, I would not have announced it, but would have done with the "sabay-ng-flush" routine if there had happened to be other people in the restroom while my stomach was acting up. But of course, nothing beats going number two in your own comfy bathroom, with a stack of magazines to leaf through, and Cool Water-scented incense smudging the smell of your perceived iniquities. An accompanying cigarette wouldn't be bad at all.
In hindsight, I realize that it could have been my Higher Power telling me to get back to work. Which I did. But only for a while, and then I started writing this.
Last Song Syndrome : the freaking national anthem