It should have been vanilla scented anyway
Confidential note to the women in my office: don't use the air freshener in the third stall of the bathroom.
I don't know what it is about the restroom in my office, but we just can't seem to get along. Between the hear-every-tear-of-the-toilet-paper silence and the frightening turbo-powered self-flushing toilets, it's just not a place I like to spend a lot of time. But alas, no one can avoid the bathroom for hours--especially not someone whose bladder stopped growing at age 7.
Even worse than enduring the backsplash of the bowl is heading in there, knowing you need some quality time in the stall. You sneak in, hoping upon hope that a) there is no one in there already; and b) no one makes an emergency dash to the loo while you're doing your own business. You have a get-in-get-out strategy. Then, before anyone is the wiser, you snap off a quick burst of the air freshener and dash back to your office before anyone can identify you.
Unless something goes horribly wrong. Unless for some reason, when you go to puff out that magical mist of fine herbal fragrance, you notice too late that there is a crack in the top of the cap. You watch in slow motion as the cap vaults off the bottle, into the air, and tumbles toward the swirling water below, still cycling in mid-flush. You panic as you see the cap land in the toilet, flirt with going down the plumbing, and then settle into the bowl as the water refills, mocking you. The bottle in your hand, now useless without its top.
What's a girl to do?
All I'm saying is, don't use the air freshener.
I don't know what it is about the restroom in my office, but we just can't seem to get along. Between the hear-every-tear-of-the-toilet-paper silence and the frightening turbo-powered self-flushing toilets, it's just not a place I like to spend a lot of time. But alas, no one can avoid the bathroom for hours--especially not someone whose bladder stopped growing at age 7.
Even worse than enduring the backsplash of the bowl is heading in there, knowing you need some quality time in the stall. You sneak in, hoping upon hope that a) there is no one in there already; and b) no one makes an emergency dash to the loo while you're doing your own business. You have a get-in-get-out strategy. Then, before anyone is the wiser, you snap off a quick burst of the air freshener and dash back to your office before anyone can identify you.
Unless something goes horribly wrong. Unless for some reason, when you go to puff out that magical mist of fine herbal fragrance, you notice too late that there is a crack in the top of the cap. You watch in slow motion as the cap vaults off the bottle, into the air, and tumbles toward the swirling water below, still cycling in mid-flush. You panic as you see the cap land in the toilet, flirt with going down the plumbing, and then settle into the bowl as the water refills, mocking you. The bottle in your hand, now useless without its top.
What's a girl to do?
All I'm saying is, don't use the air freshener.
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