So to continue my story about the delicate art of going number two while traveling with your hottie...
The hotel was actually the easy part of the trip.
The hard part was the house we stayed in the latter part of the week - on older home with small rooms and sketchy doors. The bathroom that was located upstairs near our bedroom was so tiny that my head almost hit the ceiling - and I am height challenged - but that's not the worst part. The doors off the bathroom were louvered (with slats) closet doors that opened out - just inches from the toilet. You could sit on the john and sort of look out into the hallway or the bedrooms. And the lock was simply a latch that connected the two doors from swinging open. No fan either. This was so problematic it wasn't even funny. I imagined myself sitting there with my jeans around my ankles, concentrating, trying to be quiet (please please please don't make a lot of noise) and having the doors swing open and me JUST DYING of embarrassment.
The look on hottie's face when we saw this room told me he was thinking the same thing. So I said:
I was paranoid about the bathroom thing and taking a dump this week but this is ridiculous. I don't know what I am going to do...
He laughed and said there are other bathrooms in the house and we'll be fine.
The funny thing is I wasn't fine for like two days. I just couldn't go. And I am not an uptight girl about these things. There was no Starbucks to escape to (we were out in the country) nor was there really anywhere to go besides the woods (egads!) so I was stuck.
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