(I sent this post to Elisa to edit out any inappropriate content. She didn’t delete anything…just added. I was going to erase her comments for fear of confusing you. However, I think they’re funny and it’s my damn blog. I suggest reading through the black first and then reading the blue. Or just skip the whole post and go have a coffee…it’s probably more exciting)

Elisa and I work at the same company (That’s true). We used to work in the same department. Unfortunately she fled the scene soon after I arrived. Coincidence? I think not (Is so).

My department is housed in an old crappy 8-Floor Tower (This is also true). Elisa’s department is housed in a nice 16-Floor(?) High Rise . They don’t have mice. We do. Um, not so much, lady - we’ve only got 12 floors, and we’ve got mice o’plenty. Yesterday someone said the mouse problem had “escalated”. Does that sound like no mice to you? Har. Are you feeling the injustice here?

When I first started working here Elisa was my tour guide. Her boyfriend Mike recently discovered that Elisa showed me around the campus (we have five(yep) buildings) by giving me all different options of moving from one location to another. Every time we went from my department’s floor to the Cafeteria (two buildings, two elevators and 10 floors away) we went a different way. Down the stairs here to the elevator there. Down the elevator here to the walkway there. There are innumerable combinations. It left me somewhat confused - but not too agitated. When I finally figured out where everything was I was able to get there 80 different ways. It was cool. Mike discovered this “tour” tactic when he started working at a new job. One of his colleagues subscribed to the same tour guide concept. Upon complaining to Elisa and realizing she had done that to me he called her a Shit-head. No, he called me an asshole. There was never a man who loved a woman more. Mike has an uncanny ability to call his love Shithead and burst with pride at the same time. Much like Rob did this morning when, as I was walking out the door, he called me a turd brain because I had lost my keys, *again*. These men of ours.

So, during one of our tours (to the bathroom.) I discovered that there was a shower on our floor. I thought this was practical and useful. Elisa stated that she had never used it because, “it was a shower at work.” Have you heard about Flogic yet?! Hey - that’s not Flogic. You take a shower in a building where the maintenance people call the place where pigeons live “The Penthouse”. It is a bit grimy and gross and dark. The building is old and grimy and gross and dark. I suppose one could not expect more from its shower. The concept of a shower at work quickly exited my mind. Elisa left the department soon after.

During one of my recent trips to the D&D (Dunkin’Donuts) (or as I, “The Heretic” like to call it “Dunky Dones”) on our campus I had an emergency bathroom moment. Not of the Valentine’s Day kind….just had to pee really bad RIGHT THEN. I happened to be in Elisa’s newer, nicer Office building. I went into a bathroom, walked into a stall and noticed a sign on the door that read, “Ladies, please wipe the seat when you are finished” or something. Now, the signs in the bathrooms of this company have been discussed on this blog before. These offices are filled with Type A people. I did my pee business and related tasks. Upon flushing the handle I thought I might be sucked into the Boston Harbor with the force of the flush. Holy Cow. It was crazy. And sure enough there was all kinds of toilet water all over the seat. What did I do? Wipe it up and flush the toilet paper. And sure enough there was all kinds of toilet water all over the seat. What did I do? Wipe it up… do you see where this is going?! Somehow I managed to JUST WALK AWAY.And people say I’m OCD.

Elisa and I have discussed the forceful flush of her building. Unfortunately, I was drunk at the time so I don’t remember the conversation. I do remember it was a funny one because, let’s face it - we’re funny girls. Or at least we think we are.

This morning I biked* my way into work. I arrived to my office with Helmet Head and Sweaty Pits. What did I need? A shower at work. I emailed Elisa to inquire about the showers in her nice newer Office Building. Were they better than my dark, dirty and icky one? Unfortunately they don’t have any showers in their building. According to Elisa, “we don’t get sweaty here in the XXXX Bldg, apparently.” What was my reply? - “Ah yes, but you do need industrial flushers on your toilets. Frankly, I would rather be sweaty.” To which Elisa replied, “We don’t stink, but we make lots of #2!” Speaking of, I think I gotta go…

These are the types of conversations that make me giggle in boring meetings. The lives of intelligent normal people who have email conversations about showers and poop. Thank God we’ve found one another.

* - the new bike will be the focus of a yet another wandering and pointless post.