One-Holer

I will be so glad to get into the new building. Not because I will once again have my own desk in a relatively private office, and not because I will finally get to stop answering the question "So, when's the building going to be done?", but because of one MAJOR thing:

I will no longer be sharing a restroom with the patrons.

I did not realize the depths of male disgustingness (is this a word? well, it is now.) until I had to share a toilet with all of them. My sainted husband is a model of cleanliness and sanitary bathroom usage compared to (apparently) most other men. Not only are they incapable of putting the toilet seat down, but they are also incapable of aiming. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that was a matter of some pride amongst the male species, what with all the Cheerio-sinking during potty training time and later writing of one's name in snowbanks.

Perhaps that's the problem. . . no snowbanks in Florida.