I suppose it's time I tell everyone about my little problem... I just can't hide it any longer. I thought I could keep it a secret, but that's too stressful, so it's time to be honest and open about it. Perhaps there are others like me; maybe I could form a support group someday.
I'm quite convinced that my problem is genetic - though it will likely never receive an official diagnosis - because my mother seems to suffer from the same affliction. There are two symptoms of this anomaly, both of which threaten to make me crazy.
You see, my genes have apparently mutated from the norm with what I call Bathroom Radar.
The first symptom of this genetic mistake is this: in any situation where there is a single bathroom available to multiple persons, I can just think about getting up to make use of the facility, and someone rushes in before me. It's almost as the stray thought gives off an inaudible beacon to those around me, and compels them to move to the bathroom before my legs get the mental command to bring me to my feet.
It's inevitable, and it seems that the more urgent my need, the louder the beacon - and thus the chance of someone beating me there increases exponentially. Worse, the person who beats me there usually has a book in hand and is planning on making the trip an extended experience.
The other symptom (and perhaps the more aggravating of the two) is that the very instant I actually make it into the bathroom, the phone rings.
Every. Single. Time.
It's unreal. How could they possibly know when to call, unless I'm giving off some sort of signal that creates a subliminal urge to call me (usually for the most mundane of reasons)? Since I work from home, I have guilt issues about not answering the phone, but I don't especially want to give the boss a number when he asks where I was, either!
It's sort of like washing your car in a drought, and it rains the next day. It's just a given.
So there you have it - my little problem, disclosed for the world to know.
'Scuse me. I gotta go.