the doors must be too close together.

i write like i am left handed and i got new black jeans.  because of those reasons i find myself washing my hands a lot.  but the only public bathroom i trust is the institute one.  only because i saw this cleaning schedule in the secretary's office and it looked pretty rigorous so i trust its cleanliness and safety.  well i trustED it.  today, in the women's bathroom, when i was trying to get my hands back to normal after dragging it across fresh ink repeatedly {fake lefty} and being in the near vicinity of black jeans {real life fool for not washing before wearing like requested}, i noticed that i was not alone.  there was someone in the stall behind the sink where i stood.  i was scrubbing away for a good 2 minutes, apt time for the other person to take care of business.  all it took for my heart to stop was for said person to walk from the stall to the sink.  because that person was a man, in an orange hunting hat and timberlands.  and i was {still am} a girl.  and we were in the same restroom!  we didn't speak {or scream...like i felt like doing}.  we washed our hands in silence, terrified and wondering who was in the wrong place.  that triangle skirted stick figure isn't enough for one of us. i got out of there as soon as possible and left enough time to check if was in the gender appropriate room.  i was.  he wasn't.  and it was the most seinfeld moment of my entire life.