The clock strikes 5 o'clock and my head snaps up. Yes, i can leave now. I pack all of my things in a jiffy like I normally do when I'm allowed to leave work because it's really nice to get home and just be lazy.
I pop in my mouth one of those heavenly chocolate mints that Sean so graciously bought me for my birthday, being careful not to bite, and just let it melt there so that it will last as long as possible. Such a small mint can make what would be 5 boring minutes into 5 minutes of pure taste-gasm.
All of a sudden i get the feeling that I'm forgetting something, but try as i might, i can't figure out just what it is. I'm frantically looking around the room trying to find whatever it is i had left behind, when suddenly it hits me. I had to pee. I always pee before I leave.
Mint still in my mouth, i skip happily along to the washroom. All is well, soon I will have an empty bladder, and will be on my way home to watch North Korea win the world cup (i wish). Little did I know the troubles that were in store for me. I entered the bathroom and chose my urinal; the farthest one from the door, you have to give yourself as much time and space to stop mid-stream and button up your pants in the event of a washroom-mugger (this rule holds unless said urinal is overflowing with questionably coloured fluids - happens more often than you'd think). I then proceeded to urinate.
First of all, shut up. Everyone urinates, there's no need to cuss me for being the one to address it. And secondly, this is a very important milestone in the story. This is because, once you've started peeing, and i know this is true for almost everyone, there are few things that will cause you to stop voluntarily (one of those things being a washroom-mugger).
This is the exact moment when the massive confusion hit me. Everyone knows that smell and taste are linked in their own awkward way. It's not quite a direct relationship, but change one, and the other responds accordingly. Not so unlike the fact that if the world was a few thousand kilometres more away from or nearer to the sun, we'd all grow gills or wings, or at least that's what I'd like to believe. Anyhow, at this moment in time, I was tasting the incredible minty goodness of my chocolate patty while simultaneously smelling the rancid stench of old musty washroom and urinal cakes.
I was so confused. On one hand, the usual unpleasantry of the washroom was a little softened because of the joy that the candy brought me. On the other, I wanted to yack because smells were entering my nostrils, making their way into my taste-buds somehow, and pervading my flavour bliss. I was forced to consider my options.
- Stop peeing and enjoy my now tarnished mint until i finish it, at which point i would resume the urination process, but with the satisfaction of having a minty-fresh mouth.
- Spit the mint patty into the urinal, eliminating the chaotic simultaneous clash of senses, and cutting down on the time before arriving home, but with the risk of backsplash (ew), and the horrible idea of having wasted something so precious.
- Stick it out like a real man (pshh no)
- Distract myself by humming and dancing to old cartoon theme songs.
My manager's face spelled confusion when he walked in on me shoulder-shimmying and singing "Beyblade" like Stevie Wonder.
NICE.
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