Yesterday, the Girl and I were out getting haircuts/running errands/doing Saturday things.
We swung by Target - because I am experiencing painful deoderant failure, and I can't seem to find my Secret Platinum Unscented that I switch out with my granola Tom's of Maine Unscented [seriously? I'm buying hippie deoderant? What is WRONG with me?] and I needed a new alternate - ANYWAY, we swung by Target and picked up a few things and I realized that I needed to pee. Really bad. So I left the girl checking out purses and scarves and hit the toilet.
I entered an empty bathroom, got in the stall, shut and locked the door, hung my admittedly heavy bag on the door, started doing my business and . . . the fucking door swung open. Like a horror movie.
I was dying. I couldn't reach the door. I finished up as quick as I could, wondering if I should immediately start screaming if someone happened to open the door and try and come in, wondering whywhywhy this kind of crap happens to me, finished, pulled up my pants flushed and BOLTED to the sink.
It is beyond my mortal comprehension how, in a Target on a Saturday afternoon, rife with people, not one woman came into the bathroom. It was a miracle.