How much info is too much info??

So I just played a mean game of "Bathroom Survivor" with some lady from the Mortgage company down the hall. If you're not into tales of bathroom exploits, leave now. I won't be graphic, but I'm totally going there.

So I realize that I'm going to have "to go" while at work. It's less than ideal but I'm stocked fresh full of Cottonelle clean wipes so I can deal. I start scouting comings and goings in the ladies room, as I prefer privacy when handling certain aspects of my "business" (privacy or a certain degree of familiarity. no problem pooping while friends are in there with me. not *INTHERE* but nearby. anyway, i digress). So I'm stalking the ladies room, which is easy to do since it's right next to my office and I sit near the door. When I feel the coast is clear I gather up my wipes and head in. psyche! I own the place.

I pick my stall (the one with the seat up, so you know it's pristine and hasn't been used since he washed it) and get settled. THEN the door opens, and my privacy and sanctity are violated- unfair universe!!! But it's ok. It's cool, I can hold this. It's not urgent, I got a minute. She heads in the handicapped stall and right away I get a little concerned. That's usually for serious business but I'm not sweating it. Then silence, and I know what's going on. She's gotta go too and is waiting for me to finish so she can let loose. Only I'm not done, haven't even gotten started, so I'm not going anywhere. I'm chilling there, thinking through the possibilities....I could just go for it, but I ate Mexican and I don't know what's going to happen. Could be embarrassing, unless I can get done, clean up and wash my hands and be out of there before she finishes....but what if I see her while I'm washing my hands or something ?? Could be majorly embarrassing, and what if she tells her friends about what she heard ?? Neurotic yes, but this ending is written off as undesirable and subsequently discarded.

Option 2 is to retreat, but like I said I had Mexican and while it's doable I'd really feel better if I could get this off my chest (so to speak).

The third option is to wait it out. I risk a peek under the stall to assess my opponent. She's wearing spike heels...uh oh this means she's tough. I have crazy respect for women who wear heels all day. I couldn't do it. Not only would I slip fall and die before I got out of the house, I couldn't keep them on all day. They hurt . So I'm pondering her heels, starting to think I might be up against a brick wall here, and that I might have met my match, when I spot HAIR coming down. She's checking me out too! I manage to snap out of my spike heel induced self examination just in time to get out of there before we make eye contact under the stall (which has happened before and is SO weird). So now I know she has to go bad enough that she too has begun to assess the competition. My shoes are sensible, and I'm wondering what she thinks of me.

Now. What she doesn't know, and I can't tell her is that my bosses are all in Vegas. I have all day. Literally. and I'm not afraid to use it. I don't know what happened, but she has suddenly become The Enemy, and there are now principles at stake (no idea which principles, but some for sure). I can't just get up and run because some Amazonian bimbo has given herself divine rights over another campers parade. Well I could but I won't. I WILL NOT LOSE.

Yet I'm still strangely frozen in place. I can't go, because now it's been like 10 minutes and we're hanging out so if I was going to go I should have just done by now. Chances of meeting her while I'm washing my hands are now crazy high, and I'm not prepared to take the risk. But I can't leave, because I'm committed to this project, plus that would mean all the time I already spent in here was wasted.

We stalemated for a few minutes, and I'm seriously starting to worry. I mean, I have the will to win, but is my duodenum on board ? Can we last??? Just when I'm starting to think I'm going to have to break down and "go with a stranger near me" I hear the sigh. and in one moment, I know the truth. I WIN. I have outlasted, outwitted and out something-ed else her. I will once again be queen of the hill, left alone to live my excremental reign in peace and privacy.

Glamazon gets up, spends a serious couple of minutes f'ing with her pantyhose (must be control top) then stops by the mirror to fix her face before leaving. I peeked to see who it was so I can make completely baseless "I own you" faces at her whenever I see her in the hall. Not that she knows who I am (unless we meet again and she recognizes my shoes) But still....I win :o)