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It’s allergy season.  Between working outdoors all day and the cat sleeping on my head all night, I’m doomed.  I’ve had a probable sinus infection for a week now, which causes my eye to constantly be tearing up and I look like I’m crying all day.  But I’m apparently only a little sad because I’m crying in just one eye.  Go figure, people.
Anyway, I’m walking around for everyone to see, with makeup only on the dry eye because everything on the other eye has been washed away from The Great Flood which is my irritated eye.  One happy note – I have medicated the 2nd day of the migraine enough that it’s just a dull reminder that it will rear its ugly head again once the Imitrex lets its guard down.  It’s hot and the sun is beating down on me like a mofo and I really don’t want to be working when I look and feel like crap.
Let the nosebleeds commence.  I kid you not.
I have wet, raw skin under my eye from constantly having to wipe the tears away, not to mention looking like a Cyclops, wincing in the other eye from the bright sun trying to get the migraine to come out and play, and now my nose has decided to go into the blood production business.  Yea for me.  Shove a tissue up there and carry on, I guess.
Oh, you can now add “prairie-dogging” to the joy that is my body torturing me.  Finally done with my route, I head to the nearest fast food Mexican place to use the bathroom.  Sure, I haven’t eaten there since I’ve gone Primal, but I feel like they owe me since my past customer loyalty probably helped them build at least a few more franchises over the years.  For ages, I was addicted to the shredded beef combo burrito (no beans please) on a daily basis, and the egg and cheese burrito before that.  They owe me.
But the bathroom door is locked.  Don’t they realize how desperate I am?!  I try the door handle again. No, it really is locked.  As I finish Round 2 of The Potty Dance, the door finally opens and an embarrassed employee emerges.  Yes!  I dash into the bathroom only to discover pee all over the seat.  Really?  You work here!  Who did you think was going to clean it up?  But I’m still desperate, so I reach way up into the toilet paper dispenser and find… nothing.  I waddle out to the front counter.
“Excuse me, but you’re out of toilet paper.”
“Que?”
“You’re out of toilet paper!!”
At this point, the girl at the counter, who is, by the way, the same one who left the pee-soaked toilet seat, realizes the card of the previous customer has declined.  Except he is now happily relieving himself in the men’s room.  Which probably has toilet paper.  But whatever.  Her focus has now shifted from my dire need to evacuate my bowels to making sure this man doesn’t get $3.57 worth of food without paying.
“Never mind!”
As I storm out to my work truck, my friend Lorie has the misfortune of calling on my cell.
“Whatcha doing?”
“I’M JUST TRYING TO POOP!  SERIOUSLY!”
“Um…”
“Well not right this second.”
We agree to meet at another Mexican food place closer to work.  Great food, they know my order and start making it before I even reach the counter, and best of all, they have a nice big bathroom… with toilet paper even!  It’s a 10 minute drive, but I’ll make it.  I’ve got the got A/C going, and the radio is distracting me with “Funky Town”.  If you’re too young to remember, just trust me on this one.  It’s a hardcore flashback to disco and you’ll hate yourself for singing along.  But you will sing along, nevertheless. 
Embarrassing admission: I actually own the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever on CD.
I finally reach the taco shop and head straight for the bathroom – empty, clean and stocked with toilet paper.  Yes!  I don’t even have to turn on the light (I swear, they love me here) because they have one of those motion detector sensors that turn the lights on when you walk in and turn them off when the room is empty for a few minutes.  I sit down and smile, that smile you only get when you know you have reached the end of a long and arduous journey.
And then the lights go off, leaving me in complete darkness.  Power failure?  No, I can hear there’s nothing going on.  Maybe the bulb burned out?  I start to stand up and the lights come back on.  The motion detector!  It must have timed out right as I sat down.  Oh well, back to business.  I sit back down and, 5 seconds later, the lights go off again.  This stupid timer is set to go off after 5 seconds of no motion!  So now I’m stuck, not wanting to be in pitch black darkness, with the inability to see what’s encroaching on my personal space, so every 5 seconds or so I have to frantically wave my hands in the air.  Poop a little, wave the arms, poop a little more, thrash about some more.
On the bright side, once I finished and washed up, there was a line at the counter. My food?  Already made and waiting for me to pay.  I looked like a total celebrity, even if I did feel like a total moron.
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