The Kinky Green

Oh, How the Mighty Fall

Posted in The Occupational,The Social by Joy on June 6, 2009

Last night, I was sipping wine at The Capitol. Shaking hands with former Senators clad in seersucker in the opulent LBJ Room.

Today, I find myself locked in the handicapped stall of our office bathroom, wearing nothing but a wife beater and a pair of Birks, frantically trying to dry my clothes without so much help as a hand dryer before my first meeting of the afternoon.

As I reflect on my predicament, I can’t help but chuckle to myself. Only me.

You see, it happened like this. After ignoring my rumbling tummy and forestalling the noontime meal as long as I felt possible, I was ready to consume my somewhat healthy lunch in a rapid fashion. Although it typically served my purposes well, eating at my desk held no appeal for me on this brilliant day. The rainclouds that had held clear skies at bay all week had finally dispersed, and I thought taking lunch on our underused balcony would be just the ticket to cheering up my otherwise gloomy day.

I stepped outside and selected my seat carefully, choosing one with optimal people-watching potential and just the right amount of sun exposure. Someone had thoughtfully tilted all the chairs around the tables upward, I noted, effectively keeping those pesky puddles from collecting in the seats during yesterday’s rain showers.

As I enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the hum and buzz of the streets below, I quickly snarfed up my single-serving soup and low-cal popcorn. I was ready to head back inside, had already made it to the door, when I remembered I’d bought myself a treat. I took the dark chocolate Raisinettes from my pocket and decided to settle into one of the oversized plastic arm chairs for a few moments of sheer indulgence mid work day.

I saw that the chair was dirty at the back of the seat, but I carefully perched on the edge and slowly lowered  my upper back toward the back of the chair, hoping to avoid sullying my light khaki skirt with an accumulation of outdoor grit and grime. No sooner had I leaned far enough to touch my back to the chair did I notice a cold sensation on my lower back.


I shot back up immediately, but it was too late. The damage had been done. The back of my shirt and skirt were dripping wet. Just like that.

That collection of grit and grime I’d noticed had effectively tricked my eye into missing the puddle of water covering it, and I found myself in a dilemma. While I didn’t have a mirror handy, I was pretty sure my once light khaki skirt had morphed into that of the translucent variety.

This development posed major problems. The way back into the office from the balcony is through the lunch room. While I’m typically nothing akin to a prude, the thought of walking through a sea of my coworkers with my cute little undies fairly exposed held very little appeal.

After a good 10 minutes of pacing and fretting on the balcony, I remembered a side door and made my way in via an empty conference room. Checking to make sure the hall was clear, I dashed across to the ladies’ room and beelined for the large stall at the far end.

My watch told me I had 45 minutes before my next meeting, and the lack of hand dryers told me I’d have to employ some good old fashioned ingenuity if I was going to be able to show up for it.

And that is why I could be found locked in the handicapped stall of our office bathroom, wearing nothing but a wife beater and a pair of Birks, frantically waving my skirt through the air in a post-lunch attempt to dry my clothes and keep the office mortification at bay.


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