2007-08-29

In which I inadvertently get a Stevie Wonder song stuck in my head just by explaining my trip to the bathroom�

I work in one of the Boston Federal buildings. Part of the U.S. Customs Office also takes up residence here. We share the same floor.

Customs� agents are not particularly rowdy; I�ve never had to walk over to tell them to turn the music down or anything. So you�d think there would be no problem sharing some common hallways or bathrooms with them, right? But you�d be wrong. There is one big problem, this lady:

I don�t know who she is. I don�t know what vital role she plays within our government. I�ve never talked to her.

But I do know this: SHE DOESN�T WASH HER HANDS AFTER SHE USES THE TOILET!

And whenever I have the mischance of running into her in the bathroom, not only I am reminded of that fact, which disgusts me, but also I end up having a bad rest of the week. The Customs� lady is my black cat.

I�m not normally very superstitious. In fact, in a town of Red Sox fans who refuse to change their underwear during a crucial series or must wear a specific color jersey on a certain night, I�m downright prosaic. But this is one superstition, I believe in.

Heed my words: next time you�re in Boston, keep a look out and don�t let the Customs� agent cross your path!