Number *One* & Number *Two*...

Day One, post Solumedrol infusion...I drugged myself with the skill of an addict yesterday evening and actually managed to SLEEP a few hours! This, by all medical and psychiatric standards is a VERY GOOD THING. LOL I remain clothed and no more stark-raving mad than prior to the infusion...let's all hope Day Two (today) goes as smoothly, shall we (and all of you just waiting to read about my capture naked on the Space Needle...HA!)?

But the title of this post really has nothing to do with infusion days...I know, I know...then what the heck am I talking about?!? Well, basically and *Seinfeldishly* nothing as usual! There's just something on my mind about my new office building that I feel I MUST share with all y'all...and, seeing as I so often take great "glee" in the discussion of bodily fluids, this post will not disappoint you! (Well...it certainly might disappoint YOU, but not ME. LOL)

I may have mentioned to you my new county office building has been engineered and constructed to meet the high standards and title of a "green building"...it's supposed to be environmentally sensitive...low impact/less toxic to the world...well-planned to preserve the peace and dignity of the fragile ecosystem. Oddly, however...IT IS STILL A LOOMING SKYSCRAPER IN DOWNTOWN SEATTLE! But I digress...I suppose we all need SOMEWHERE indoors to work and a tent without electricity or running water just won't do. LOL

So...our move down into the real world of mental health...we were prior isolated in our own space, on a vacant floor, of another office building, far, far away from the politics of those PAID to be political in our division. We worked out of what was commonly known as the "Bat Cave". Since we are a 24/7/365 service to the community, there is always some in our office...we often eat there, occasionally sleep there, and refer to our space as *Home Away From Home*.

Just like in ANY grouping community of people, there are those of us who are (how shall I say this without sound smug and superior? Whatever...LOL) *neater* and more organized than others...there are those of us who eat with the manners of Emily Post and those who, well...are a bit "piggish". Consequently, over the years in our old office space, it became somewhat trashed...for which we were ALL proud...neat freaks included. It was OURS...no one to post new rules, monitor our business, or overhear our peculiar dialogues!

In our new space, EVERYTHING is monitored and it feels much like being a rat running a maze of an experiment. And, there are the "others" in the division on the floor who we must content with. They are a different political breed with different agendas...AND, they appear to be *neat* and tidy. I'm not sure we are going to fit in well with this crowd. LOL

My first trip into the politically correct, highly sanitized, *green* bathroom was a bit of an adventure. Perfectly manicured and sterile walls greeted me with high tech hand washing and toilets. I was nearly blinded by the shine of it all. I stepped into one of the stalls (peering around for a possible camera surveillance!) and sat down to do my "business"...NUMBER ONE. I generally ONLY do NUMBER ONE in a public toilet as I have a bizarre phobia about NUMBER TWO in a public place (an entirely DIFFERENT post).

I finished my business of NUMBER ONE and got up to properly flush my business down the sterile pipes of the *green building* sewage system, only to discover there was no handle to flush...there were two, unlabeled, half-dollar sized buttons on the wall behind the toilet. The first button had a slash in its middle, the second just a solid piece of metal. I pondered this choice for some time.

What if I pushed the wrong button and the Sewage Police came running in to arrest me? What did I NEED two buttons for? The choices were overwhelming. But, being the risk taker I am (hehe), I cautiously chose the first button with the slash, hoping a french bidet didn't shoot a steady stream of water in my face!

Much to my delight, a suction that could have swallowed a small child occurred and sent my NUMBER ONE product disappearing into the "green" sewage system. It was a great relief (in more ways than one...well, just NUMBER ONE, but whatever).

But then, that investigative nature overtook my brain, and I decided I MUST find out what the second button did...it was, after all, my right to know. So, I gingerly pushed the second button. Again, a powerful suction blasted the bowl, but this time with MORE water!

"Ah, ha!", I exclaimed out loud. This button was a NUMBER TWO button! More power, more water HAD to equal a system for more...ah..."refuse". I grew oddly excited...briefly. But then the disappointment began to overtake me as I realized I would never get to USE the second button as I so rarely (unless dire emergency) DO NUMBER TWO in a public place! Sigh...

But of course, I could not just stop my thinking at this junction. I became indignant. Even if I DID do NUMBER TWO, why was I being forced to decide if my deposit REQUIRED a second button? Did the designers just automatically ASSUME I might be full of crap? And if I DID a NUMBER TWO and pushed the first button, would I be held financially accountable for any sewer line repair that might take place should my "load" cause a malfunction in the delicate system? WERE there cameras in the bathroom for this very purpose?...to expose the low flusher/high volume producer culprits??? Who WERE these people???

I left the bathroom in disgust...yet another political dilemma to complicate my work place. I'm really hoping the Division will come to their senses once they realize exactly what KIND of neighbors and employees they have moved in to their high tech building (that would be us slovenly folks down the hallway. LOL) and decide to move us out...maybe a tent with electicity and running water AND a portapotty would be better...LOL...