Today I got my hair cut, and since I felt so fabulous afterwards, I stopped at Zupas to grab a sandwich (and, truth be told, a seven-layer bar). Rose had fallen asleep in the two blocks from the hair salon to the sandwich place, but I carried her in anyway, snuggled up on my shoulder (four hours later she's still asleep-- should I be worried? Maybe, but I've been so productive!). I realized when I was waiting to pay that I had to go to the bathroom, so I paid for my sandwich shuffled down the hall with my bag in one hand and my baby in the other, went into the single stall, locked it, and sat down.
And the knocking started.
I said, "I'll be out in a second."
It took more than a second (Isaac and I shared a blender full of protein shake for breakfast).
They knocked again.
"Just a minute."
They rattled the door.
"I'm in here!"
Then I heard a key in the lock, and the door opened.
"Oh," said the worker, without a trace of shame. "I thought it was locked by accident."
"I called out three times," I whispered as loud as I could, not wanting Rose to be a witness to my shame.
"It's way too loud out here to hear anyone in there."
Well, I hope the old lady who couldn't wait thirty seconds got to pee in peace. If I wanted to be walked in on in the bathroom, I should have held it until I got home.
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