Yesterday was a really slow day at work.

I’m just trying to justify myself.

The truth is that I goof off in the bathroom at work.

Okay, that came out sounding very wrong. I mean literally just goofing off.

The bathrooms by my office in my building are solo bathrooms. A private room, pretty spacious. Nothing fancy, but there’s room to hang out. It’s where I go when I need a five-minute break to check my voicemail, or just jump around. Literally.

I struggle with sitting at a desk all day. My body hates it. So a lot of the time, when I go to the bathroom at work, I do my thing, and then I take an extra few minutes to dance.

I hope you weren’t expecting a normal story out of me today. SORRY NOT SORRY.

So yesterday, I spent the morning completing a MIND-NUMBING data entry task. It was made even worse by the fact that in a list of 232 documents I had to alter, I forgot to make a note to myself of where I left off the day before…so I had to start at numero fucking uno.*

GAH.

So I took a bathroom break. After I washed my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror, said the words, “Dance Break!” and started shimmying my ass off.

Guys, I was dancing hard. I was going for it. I needed to shake out the tediousness of my morning.

I should mention now that I was wearing a necklace, and as I danced and shimmied, it was JINGLING and JANGLING. All over the place.

“Look at me shimmying!” I said to myself – yes, out loud – “I am the shimmying queeeeeen!”

Bridget

(Basically.)

Once I had shimmied to my heart’s content (and let’s face it, if you shimmy too much, it just hurts your boobs), I fixed my hair, gave myself a dignified nod in the mirror, and opened the bathroom door with great gusto to head back to my office.

…And I almost RAN OVER the cleaning lady, who was standing DIRECTLY behind the closed door. Her expression seemed to sit somewhere between “What the fuck were you doing in there?” and “Who’s in there with you?” and “WHAT WAS MAKING THAT NOISE?”

I looked at her straight in the eyes, my expression sitting somewhere between a casual, “Oh, hello!” and a panicked, “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

“Hi!” I said.

And then I did my best speed walk back to my office and sat my ass back down in my office chair.

Lesson learned: If you’re gonna “Dance Break!” at work, you’ve got to be prepared for the  consequences.

The next time I see the cleaning lady is gonna be awesome.

xA

P.S. My track record of coolness at work: Exhibit A and Exhibit B.

*If you recognized that as a Trainspotting reference, I’m in love with you.

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