Wednesday, February 16, 2011

In our own weird way, we work.

First of all, in regards to my last post, SBS has NOTHING to do with Valentine's Day. That was the clearly missed point of saying "In honor of the upcoming Valentine's Day."

This post, however, has everything to do with Valentine's Day. That fateful day when Irony stabbed me in the back and made me pay.

As the tale goes...

Jesse and I decided to celebrate on Saturday because Mondays are bad for us with school and work, etc. So on Saturday, we had a truly lovely day. He actually refrained from studying and we just spent the day together, capped with a fabulous dinner at one of his favorite restaurants, 13 Coins, where we both enjoyed the Valentine's Prime Rib Special.

He ordered flowers, but bless his heart...he ordered them on Saturday and the florist laughed in his face (or rather over the phone) at the idea that they would arrive on Monday. "More like Tuesday, fool."

So, Monday arrives, and I should know myself (and Jesse) better than this after nearly 3 years. I should know that no matter how lovely Saturday was, I want something on Monday. Period. Yep, I'm that girl. I also should know that if I tell Jesse that Saturday is fine and don't need anything on Monday, that he will take my word for it.

Monday night arrives, and not even a phone call from that yahoo. Now, c'mon.

So, I get all bent out of shape and pouty. "Why couldn't you just call me?" "Why couldn't you have ordered the flowers earlier?" Why, why, why. Pout, pout, pout.

Then, Irony showed up and stabbed me in the back.

Jesse's Valentine's gift, which I had bought the week before, was sitting in its bag in the back of my closet. Unwrapped, forgotten.

Oh selfish, selfish girly girl on Valentine's Day. While I was pouting, Jesse never once asked where his gift was.

I howled with laughter while he looked at me like I had 3 heads. When I finally calmed down enough, I went to the closet, pulled out the bag, and threw it on the bed.

He opened the bag and pulled out the card. That I had not signed. Or put in the envelope. He said, "But the card's not even in the envelope." I snatched the card, shoved it in the envelope, and tossed back to him. "Here."

He opened the card, which had a wiry little dog and nasty looking cat tangled in an awkward embrace on the front.

The card, in a most fitting way, read: "In our own weird way, we work."

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Living with SBS

In honor of the upcoming Valentine's Day, I thought I would blog about my Shy Bladder Syndrome (SBS). I was chatting with a couple of my friend-workers (co-workers who I count as friends) recently and realized I may have some weird issues around my SBS. This has particularly become an issue in the workplace, where I must use a 4-stall public restroom on a workdaily basis.

SBS-a working definition: when someone can't pee if someone else is around because there is a fear they will hear you and (gasp!) know what you're doing

SBS Coping Skills:
1. If I go into the bathroom and someone I know is in there, I pretend I just went in to wash my hands. I wash them and then sneak down one floor to the other bathroom where there is a far slighter chance of running into someone I know.
2. It infuriates me if I am in the far right stall (which I ALWAYS go to as a first choice) and the other 3 are empty and someone comes in and chooses the one next to me. I mean, I know there's a stall-wall, but come on...give me some space, please.
3. The toilets have auto-flushers that sometimes go off manically (read: flush for no apparent reason, often while you are still on the toilet). In order to pee, I will sometimes push the button so the toilet flushes, giving me a few precious seconds to push out the pee...but other people will assume it's just the psycho auto-flusher.
4. The hand dryer is an SBS person's best friend. When I am sitting there trying to pee and someone chooses to use the hand dryer over the paper towel machine, I want to hug them. That blessed hand dryer gives me a good minute to give my bladder the courage it needs to pee without fear of being heard.

SBS irony: By not being able to pee if you think someone else can hear you, you end up sitting there hoping to pee...meanwhile, others in there think you are pooping because it's taking you so long. Which in the mind of an SBS sufferer is far worse than if you had just peed in the first place.