I was going to talk about Seattle today. I was going to tell you how much I love that city, how much I miss it, how much it still feels like home, how much being on the water is necessary to my emotional health and survival, how much my friends mean to me, how much I would love to live there again someday.
But all of that lovely, aching wistfulness has been hijacked by something I was reminded of last night.
I’ve been a member for 8 months, but I don’t know where the bathroom is at 24 Hour Fitness.
I know where the women’s locker room is, and I’ve gone in there looking for a restroom. But I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere, around every corner. I’ve found the showers, the sinks, the lockers, the scales, the mirrors.
But I cannot find the toilets.
At this point, I’m too embarrassed to ask. I mean, it’s too late. They KNOW me there. My window of opportunity has passed, and now I’m on my own to to figure this one out. Godspeed, little gym rat.
But I really do love Seattle.