The Office Bathroom

Leaving work to ride my bike home in the afternoons, I duck into the bathroom with my backpack for a quick change from work clothes into a T-shirt and shorts.

On the counter in the office ladies' room is a small decorative basket someone has thoughtfully provided, stocked with little bottles of perfume and lotion. "For everyone's use," reads a small sign taped to the side of the basket.

At the Gay Pride Parade several months ago, smiling parade-goers riding on floats were tossing out beads, mints, and other little favors to the crowd, including ziploc baggies containing several individual samples of personal lubricants: a few different flavors, in warming and cooling varieties. I've been carrying the baggie of lubricants in my backpack ever since, partly because I thought it was kind of funny, but mostly because I'm really bad about throwing stuff out.

Today while I was changing, the baggie fell out of my backpack onto the floor. I picked it up. I started to put it back in my backpack. My eye fell on the pretty little basket.

Well, I really didn't need them.