A day of misadventures...

I'm not very graceful, unless I'm dancing. Similarly, I have a tendency to get myself into situations rather clumsily, and always seem to get back out of them with even less grace. Today was just one of those days...

When working down at the symphony, we have special access to some of the restrooms up just outside one of the performance halls. They're down a long hallway, with the entrance to the men's restroom just before the drinking fountains, and the women's further down the hall after them.

Ever since I got hired, and started actively using the restroom, I've had a fear of walking into the wrong bathroom when in a particularly absent-minded state of being. Never mind the fact that there's rarely anyone else in the bathrooms, I've always worried about the embarrassment just to myself of moseying right into the wrong fancy bathroom.

Well, all the set-up aside, today I did it. I was totally spacing out as I walked, and ducked right into the men's restroom. The problem is, not only did I not realize that I had walked into the wrong bathroom, but my boss (a man, if you were wondering) was standing in said bathroom, washing his hands. (I know...thank God he was only washing his hands!) It took my brain a couple seconds to figure out what I was seeing, and then a couple seconds of 'Oh! Hi!' and getting a weird look from him for me to look to my right and realize I was looking at urinals. I'm not sure my face could have gotten more red. I booked it right out of that bathroom, while giggling incessantly while explaining how long I had feared doing that very thing. I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or just laugh for a long, long time.

Well, work was busy up until the very end, after which I hurried up and over the hill to go to a rehearsal for a trio for a friend's senior recital. The rehearsal went very well, but of course, being me, I wasn't paying close attention to what I was doing. Said friend was kind enough to offer me a ride to the transfer point for the bus, but not three blocks from school, I realized that I had left my cell phone in the string studio. The string studio that was now locked. The locked string studio for which no one at school had the key. Except campus security. Campus security, whose phone number was saved in my phone. *sigh* So, a hilarious misadventure of trying to contact them by looking them up on the SPU website on a computer inside the music building, and calling them using a dying cell phone ensued.

Let's just say I'm happy to be home, and to have my iPhone sitting beside me, right in my sight. And to be back to my house where the bathrooms don't have gender assignments. It's just been one of those days...