Use your best judgement if you decide to read this whole post....

Ok, so anyone who is under the impression that it's all blonde curls and chipper peals of laughter all the time in my universe, let me assure you: it is not. I have a mouse that lives in my brain that chooses to run on the wheel when it's sleepy time. I have anxiety to the point that at times I chew my nails down to the quick and pick at my lip until it bleeds. I'm scared of spiders and terrified of flying.

And I am lactose intolerant.

The Ex-Mr. Smith and I used to have this routine where I'd text an hour after lunch and say "well, there went lunch." To which he would reply "YOU ARE LACTOSE INTOLERANT. What about this do you not understand?"

Cue to today, and friend Chrissy's birthday lunch. (HBD CHRISSY!) We enjoyed a nice pizza, and I agreed to go over to the courthouse for her to renew and update her driver's license. As it expired today, it seemed like excellent timing.

Until that pizza came calling.

I skittered around the courthouse rapidly until I stumbled upon the bathroom door. Given my state, I was a little unprepared to find the door open with a custodian's cart for all the world to see (and hear). Being close to desperation, I sallied forth to find a the cleaning lady cheerfully occupied inside. Singing.

Cleaning lady: (stopping singing) Oh hello! Come on in, don't mind me. Just trying to get caught up here.

Me: (mentally measuring the distance between the open bathroom door to the farthest stall and calculating the physics of sound reverberating over the marble floor - and deciding that it was a risk I was willing to accept) Hi there! (Tiptoes rapidly to the farthest stall)

CL: I like to sing while I work. Most people think I'm crazy.

Me: (trying desperately to shimmy out of skinny jeans and proceed as quietly as possible) Mmmm... ok.

CL: People say, what's that crazy lady doing in there? I'm just singing.

Me: (still working on that quiet thing. Not working out so well.) Mmm.... ok.

CL: It's just that with the holidays - (cuts off as what should have been painfully obvious is now rising like the sun from her subconscious to her conscious and.... singing goes off in the distance...)

Holy shit. LITERALLY. I pooped her out of the bathroom and she had the gall to leave with the goddamn door open for all of the courthouse to hear. And smell. PEOPLE. It is not for no reason that the Dipper avows that any man I marry needs to be deaf and have no sense of smell. I AM LACTOSE INTOLERANT. AND I HAVE AN UNHOLY LOVE OF PIZZA.

In the end, I decided that I'd far rather lose a friend than an intestine. So sorry courthouse. You deserve better.

So, there's my day. Props to me for voluntarily going to the DMV for no reason, but not for pooping out the whole courthouse. While Chrissy and I were leaving I was trying to quietly relay what had just happened and gain consensus from her on whether or not the lobby smelled like someone just blew it up in the rotunda when yet another (different) courthouse employee suddenly burst into song.

WHAT THE HELL WITH THE SINGING, COURTHOUSE?

Sigh. Over and out.