Awkward Encounters

Have you even locked eyes with someone as they came out of the restroom and wondered if they had been napping in there?

Me neither. Until today. I'm coming out of the bathroom, and at the same time someone comes out of the men's bathroom. Our eyes meet- a necessity in avoiding a collision in the awkwardly shaped mini-hallway the bathrooms on the third floor of my office building are in. And I just KNOW, in the same way I know that "Firefly" will never return to television, that this guy was taking a nap.

It's all over his face. Literally. One side of his hair is smashed up in the quasi-mohawk that I personally refer to as a duck-wing, and his eyes are glazed over but trying to pretend otherwise. Unknown to him, there's a small smear of drool on his chin. And most tellingly, there is a big red square from where he was leaning his face against what I can only assume was the stall wall.

I should have taken a picture. He was still groggy, and no match for the picture-taking reflexes everyone with a smartphone posses.

In my head, I can think up a lot of reasons this would happen. Maybe he got high on his lunch, went to use the restroom, and just fell asleep (this seems most plausible given I live in Colorado and this guy apparently comes to work in cargo shorts). Maybe they had a potlock in his office and he ate too much turkey, and got really sleepy, KNEW he needed a nap, but was afraid to fall asleep at his desk. Maybe the air conditioning in his office was broken and the cool temperature of the stall wall was so relaxing that he just got too comfy and fell asleep out of sheer relief. Maybe last night the boss threw an office party and he got trashed and spent the night with his cool, comforting toilet friend.

But whatever his reason, THERE IS NO FREAKING EXCUSE FOR NAPPING IN THE BATHROOM.

There is a part of me that wishes I had caught him in the act, and that he had been Joss Whedon, because knowing I had a way to blackmail someone into returning "Firefly" to television would have made my day most excellent. I guess I'll just have to settle for the awesome mental image of an anonymous serial-napper.

A Love Letter to my Car

Dear Car,

I know, as you are getting older and gas gets more expensive, that you must be worried I will give up on loving you. Everyone gets insecure from time to time, and you recently let me know that our relationship is going to require some maintenance, so here goes:

I love you. You are a great car.

You always start for me, even when it's so cold outside it hurts to breathe. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your selflessness in this regard, because when it gets that cold I know it requires extreme will to wake up. You also are willing to get going when it's so hot I feel like that Furian guy walking into the sunshine in The Chronicles of Riddick. Again, thank you.

I'd so much rather drive you to work than have to row a metal people boat.

Also, in spite of extreme temperatures, your AC and heat work effortlessly, within moments of starting. It's amazing. Like a little slice of climate controlled heaven, where I can eat my M&Ms without fear of them liquefying.

But in every healthy relationship, there are two sides to the story. There is something you have been doing lately that I feel must be addressed.

I know that you are feeling insecure, and that all the cars I've been with before had standard transmissions. However, this insecurity over my past car relationships is no reason to start trying to pretend to be a standard. Specifically, it's very unnerving when you allow me to turn off your engine and remove the key in drive, but then scold me for trying to start you afterwards. It's a mixed message, and not appreciated. I occasionally forget, and I am willing to work on this, but you need to work on being happy with who you are. Truly, no amount of gentle reassurances that your transmission is just as appealing as  my former cars' transmissions will make up for your self confidence.

Thank you so much for all you have given me.

Love,

Alicia