I had a most embarrassing experience yesterday, which has brought about a bit of a conundrum.
A good friend of mine picked me up so we could go do some Op shopping.
We frequently peruse the second hand stores together looking for bargains. Actually, at least once a week we go on our second hand treasure hunts.
I’m always on the lookout for craft supplies, or just things that have potential to add to my ever accumulative stash of weird things I “may find a creative use for one day.” (Yikes…next thing you know I’ll be on an episode of “Extreme hoarding”.)
It was stinking hot so I had purchased a bottle of green iced tea to quench my thirst.
We were just getting ready to get out the car to go into one of the bigger second hand stores, and I had placed the bottle of green tea on my lap, but I was searching for my straw among the piles of bags around my feet.
Stupidly, I had loosened the lid before I placed it, side down, in my lap. Just enough to crack the seal, you know?
So I’m looking, looking for the damn straw, rifling through bags….muttering “Where did the straw go?” when all of a sudden I felt an icy cold gush right between my legs.
Yep…. The iced tea had spilled and drenched my crotch!
I said a few choice words, jumped out of the car trying to swipe away at the seeping moisture and then wailed to my friend…
“I can’t go in there now! It looks like I’ve wet my pants!”
She’s was just laughing at me and said.
“Don’t be silly, just pull down your shirt, nobody will notice.”
So I did….right down, but as I walked I could feel that the liquid had soaked right though to my underwear.
I haven’t felt that feeling since I was about three.
It wasn’t very nice.
I felt so uncomfortable walking around the store with wet knickers, so I headed straight for the women’s clothes and found a pair of three quarter pants almost exactly the same as I’d been wearing.
For a couple of dollars, to feel somewhat dry again, and not have to worry about any elderly people in the store, offering me one of their secret stash of Depends in sympathy, I decided I’d just do a quick wardrobe change and all would be well again.
Now I don’t know why, but when I went to the counter to pay I laughed and told the man behind the counter that I’d just spilled drink all over myself and it looked like I’d had an unfortunate accident.
(Why am I so Goddamned honest? The too much information girl! I just can’t seem to keep my darn thoughts to myself!)
So he laughed at me and said….
“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard that before…the “Oh I just splashed water all over myself washing my hands at the sink!”
Which brought more laughing, by other in earshot staff too… but I hoped he DID believe me. Just because…well. It’s a matter of dignity, you know? Plenty of time for REALLY peeing my pants in the future.
I ducked into the change room, pulled the curtain across and as SOON as I did so, the overwhelming odour of urine hit me.
NO! I did NOT pee my pants! I assure you.
As I stood there getting changed, I was thinking…
“There seems to be a definite urine theme suddenly happening to me?”
And then… my foot stepped on something damp (shudder)…on the carpet, towards the back of the change room – a dark wet stain that was most obviously, undeniably – WEE.
Oh my Lord.
How could that be?
Someone pee’d right there, on the floor, in the change room!
How disgusting! How could someone do that?
“Right, that’s it…I’m telling one of the staff members.” I thought to myself.
“It’s only right that they should know, so they can DO something about it!”
Uhh…but hang on…I just told them I needed to change my pants because…. my pants were wet.
Oh crap. No…I couldn’t tell them!
How suspicious would that look?
Should I ? How could I though?
So, not knowing what to do…I grabbed my friend by the arm and marched her out of the store and told her about the stinky pee issue in the change room.
I don’t know what to do now!
My friend and I ALWAYS shop, together, at that store and we’re not hard to miss because my friend is a Pommy with a really distinctive voice and accent.
I shall never be able to show my face there again because they probably think it was ME who wee’d in the change room!
Who on earth would DO that?
I hope it was innocent childs wee I stepped in… not old lady pee, or worse, old man’s pee! There’s a difference you know.
I swear…it wasn’t me who wee’d.
I should have just told them shouldn’t I ?
As my Pommy friend would say …”Bleedin’ dirty bastards!”