Is nothing sacred?

Everybody knows that the men’s room on two is the best men’s room in the building. There are a number of reasons—the low number of men who actually work on two, auto-flush toilets in every stall, a cheerful wall color, etc.

But even paradise has its bad days.

Today is a bad day for two.

The wall of smell hit me as soon as I opened the door. This would not be the premium potty experience I hoped for. I did a quick scan and realized that the Peter Brady stall was occupied.

Had the occupant chosen the warm embrace of the #2 stall, forgoing the relative splendor of the penthouse stall? Or was this a case of misplaced blame? Had the real offender just left the penthouse and exited the men’s room, leaving the Peter Brady occupant to take the blame for the remaining plume?

Put then I noticed it. A magazine. Open. On the ground between the two feet of the Peter Brady visitor.

We’re his hands too tired to hold the magazine while he sat? Were his hands otherwise occupied?

Men, there are few areas LESS sanitary then the square foot directly in front of a toilet. It is not a place one should set anything of value and certainly not an item that you will be taking with you, handling for extended periods of time and, perhaps, passing on to a colleague.

It was all the evidence I needed. The reader and the pooper were one in the same.

Second floor, I hardly know you.

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