It is one thing to walk into a restroom with a friend or acquaintance, and entirely another to enter a restroom to discover said friend or acquaintance.

Running into someone you know in a public restroom is never comfortable. What sort of small talk do you make when toilets are flushing in the background?

Or perhaps it’s just me. I unconsciously inject uneasiness into an otherwise ordinary human interaction.

Usually I’ll say “hello,” perhaps add a little wave if I’m feeling particularly uncomfortable, and then scurry into the nearest stall.

Now, the older I get, the more it is apparent that I am a creature of habit. Up until high school, I refused to use public restrooms for various reasons, one of which being the aforementioned.

These days, if I use a public restroom, I insist on keeping at least one stall between myself and any other occupant. I have this bizarre fear of someone reaching under the flimsy partition to grab my ankle, just because she could easily do so.

In addition, I try to use the same stall every single time I enter a public restroom. Bizarre sense of comfort in this. I even gravitate toward the same sink when I wash my hands.

Good lord, I am borderline bovine. I like patterns and familiarity. Rather desperately, I seek comfort in schemes and plans.

I sit at the same desk every single class time, simply to eliminate the menial task from my thoughts.


Of course, I’m exaggerating a tad. I’m just bored. I want to go home, eat my crappy ramen, and go to bed when David returns from his guest spot on his classmate’s radio show.

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