So yesterday, as I blogged, I was up early after 11 hours of rest. And after coffee (where I formed said blog post while watching the Ladies' Final at Wimbledon over pirate Internet, I had my whole day ahead of me. Little did I know most of it was going to be spent finding a place to take a dump.
After leaving the coffeeshop and eating at Burger King, I felt something from my gut. For the first time in a long time, I had this bowel movement that kind of told me I needed to go. Guess I could have gone back to BK, but since it's a fast food restaurant, I'm pretty sure the shitter there has been used a lot and it would have been gross. So, since I was planning on going to exercise for much of the rest of the afternoon, I decided I would hold it in until I got to the community center.
On the way there I decided, just because, to check my transmission. It had been at least a week, more like two, since I did so, even though every time I checked the dipstick the transmission fluid there was both full and pink enough where I didn't feel like I had to worry. But the trip all over town on Friday, along with an incident where the stripper I was taking home the Friday before accidentally knocked the selector from drive to neutral, made me realize I should look at it again, even if the car was shifting just fine.
So I park at the community center and I pop open the hood, and I glance at the power steering tank to make sure nothing was wrong -- but everything was, for the power steering tank, once again, was completely empty -- even though I had filled it up before I even left for the coffeeshop. So I filled it up and thought it would be OK, except that it totally wasn't. Where the hell did the fluid go? If I didn't have to take a shit after eating at Burger King, guess I would have had to by then.
I had a bottle of steering fluid I went through, I think, on Monday. I had panicked when I checked it Friday morning before going to work and saw it empty, and after hearing something funny while driving to work I pulled off and probably overpaid at the gas station for another bottle to use right then and there. Yet I don't think I've gone through as much power steering fluid as I did yesterday, especially when I filled it up at the gym. I think I'm already halfway through it. This may be a problem.
But at least the car's parked and I got to where I wanted to go, to exercise. Needed to forget about my troubles for a little bit, so I put away the steering fluid bottle and grabbed my gym bag and headed inside ... and then the doors wouldn't open up for me. Oh, fuck, are they closed?!?! I look at the monthly schedule posted at the door, and indeed, they are closed for the weekend, as well as, obviously, Thursday, although they were open till 5 Friday.
What's ... interesting about that is ... I knew that they were closed this weekend. I had checked on the schedule a few times, in fact, the last time being on Wednesday night, where, although I was dead tired, I thought I should go work out because I might not have had time if I had a full day at work Friday (which I didn't, but instead I went to the Mall of America and spent that whole afternoon at Hooters talking with a soldier), and I won't be able to do it over the weekend. Force of habit and boredom led me there. That and I just plain forgot. (Worst of all, my monthly membership ends Monday, the day where I start my next and final project, so I don't think I'll have enough energy to work out then. I paid in advance for five visits' worth to the gym and I went there only six times; I should have used it more.)
So now what? Since I can't exercise, my next priority is just finding a place to relieve myself. At least there's the library across the parking lot. I had thoughts about going there after the community center if I didn't want to work out anymore, but now I have nothing else to do. I'll go there, take a shit, then get back on the computer.
It's not the most modern place, this library, but it'll do. I've used the bathroom before and I didn't recoil or anything. I just never needed to use the toilet before. That's when I realized, after going in, that the urinal and toilet are next to each other. And there is no partition. It's in the same place. You've got to be kidding me. Where the fuck is the privacy? And I checked the door to see if there's a lock. There isn't. If I decided to drop my pants and shit, there would be a chance a guy, or a little boy, would come in and piss. No fucking way was I going to do that.
Therefore, now, plan, uh, C? Go to the Barnes & Noble close by me, park there, walk across to the mall close by me, shit there, then walk around the mall before going back to B&N to dink around on my computer. OK! Car drove fine and, after I checked, there indeed was power steering fluid in the tank. So I guess I have to fill it up after long drives around town. Dropped by the new OfficeMax in this same strip mall where B&N is, although it just moved a few units down. Much better; there are no separate automatic doors that were annoying because there were so close you would walk past and unintentionally set open both of them. Saw the bathroom, but didn't go there. Why didn't I? Guess I didn't want to be stuck in an awkward situation where a guy at OfficeMax was waiting outside the door for me to finish in the bathroom. The food court at the mall has several stalls and no waiting. Thought that would be better socially.
Still able to hold my feces in this whole time. Once I got to the food court I thought I'd be safe. But, first of all, it looked like all but one of the stalls was already occupied. And when I looked at the toilet of the open stall, it had all these goddamn drops of piss all over it. Fuck me. Next!
I finally went to another bathroom in the mall, one of the ones whose interior could use updating. And it was clean and it was fine and I had my movement and that was it.
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