The good news? The men are gone and my bladder is empty. Well, actually, I’ve had two diet cokes since I last peed (pee’d? pee-ed?) so it’s probably not empty, but when it fills back up? I can pee knowing no one else can hear me. I ended up going to Target, but not just to use the facility, because I also remembered I needed some nail polish remover since I’ve got about 12 layers on my toenails now. Actually? Acetone will probably not even be strong enough, I’ll need a blow torch.
HOWEVER, I just dribbled spaghetti sauce all down the front of my shirt, so the joy I feel from the workers being gone? Has been replaced by sadness over the ruin of what elt like a Zoot-looks-kinda-presentable Day. That’s what I get for trying to fix myself up. Just when I thought it was safe to wear nice clothes because NikkiZ doesn’t spit-up that much anymore. I had evidently forgotten about my own propensity for staining clothing, since I’d had someone else to blame it on for so long.