Pee on the toilet seat

Every week day – and more than once a day at that – I make my way to the office bathroom with mixed feelings of trepidation and fatal attraction. “Will it be there?” I wonder. “Will that mystery someone [a female, by definition] once again leave tell-tale golden droplets of urine on the toilet seat?”

And, without fail, there they are – always two drops, one always sizeably larger than the other, both always just to the left off the centre of the toilet seat from where a normal punani would rise after stationing itself strategically for a non-drip pee.

I have no set routine for dealing with this – some days, I angrily rip off a strip of toilet paper and wipe the offending liquid away; some days I (in vain) try to hold up the toilet seat and perch on the actual toilet bowl (a scary solution – only the most diligent of cleaners ever routinely wipes this surface), but alas the seat does not naturally stay up and must therefore be held up, all the way through your timid urination from a sub-clean surface and cautious concentration on not falling into the watery hell that beckons your nether regions. And some days I use the male toilet next door instead.

Apart from not being able to identify the mystery offender, I cannot find a plausible explanation for why she would routinely miss the mark. Possible scenarios that have run through my head include:

1. She is in fact a he. Either some bastard male colleague (who must be perpetually drunk or lacks 3-d vision or likes to wiggle out the last 2 drops while perching his ass on the basin a half-metre away) continually uses the female loo to spite us; or, more interestingly, one of my “female” colleagues is a transvestite, in which case, for the love of well-groomed punani’s, please have the op, lady!

2. She likes to squeeze zits while taking a piss, the problem of the too-high mirror being resolved by her not reclining fully into seated position, but rather just perching over it, and her leaning closer to the mirror for better scrutiny of her facial blemishes. During which, of course, she loses her concentration and falls forward, spilling urine onto the seat.

3. She likes to get some thigh exercises in during her daily peeing sessions, so instead of sitting, she continuously raises and lowers herself onto the seat, doing an even 20 reps each pee time. She occasionally loses her balance, tripping forward and thus sharing the contents of her bladder with the rest of us.

4. She likes to drip-dry, but given that this takes a while and her phone always rings while she’s on the loo (and she can hear it ringing on her desk from inside the bathroom), she’s never quite done before she has to rush out the loo to answer it, leaving a trail that Hansel only wished he’d dreamt up for Gretel to follow.

5. She has some toilet-caught disease and she’s so angry at the unfairness of it all that she wishes to take revenge upon innocent, unsuspecting colleagues, and actually brings a vial of her urine to the office so that once she has flawlessly (and with perfect aim) executed her urination, she can bless the toilet seat with her less-than-holy water.

I’m considering abstaining entirely from the whole ordeal and waiting the anxious 8 – 10 hours until I get home each evening.