Tuesday, August 02, 2016

The gap; again with the gap

I was seated, I wasn't thinking, and I projected right across my pants and the floor. To the point the urine actually collected in a pool along the grouting and I had to strain to reach paper towels to drape across the pool to soak it all up.

Because of that, and re-traumatising myself due to a survey and an email, I had to go. I was crying as I told colleagues I was going for the day.


So I'll now need a back-up pair of pants for work as well undies for those embarrassing moments like hosing your lower clothes (and the fixtures). If I'd had the back-up pair I think I would have toughed it out, even with the RT in play, because I'm a lot stronger—and because for every moment I am not at work, ten people are not at work.

I hated that I cried. I was collected by the time that I left, having to finish work kneeling at my computer to avoid tainting my chair, and when I passed R— on the way to the lifts I said I was sorry for going for such an embarrassing reason.

She laughed with kindness and made me give her a high five.

The gap. Curse it and the reasons for why it exists. But hooray for comrades that can see a wounded, sad man off with comfort and joy.

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