There’s a moment where I’m sitting in the bathroom, doing my thing, and I think that it isn’t going to happen this time. That through some act of magical thought transference the entire floor now gets it, finally gets it after months of having to declare that yes, I exist and I am in here taking a crud, please stop trying open door. Then that moment is gone as fast as I managed to conjure it as the handle shakes and someone on the other side attempts to force themselves into the room. The handle rattles in bursts of threes, three times; each burst increasing in vigour as if the person is initially confused that this door that has opened for them before is no longer doing so and that confusion gradually shifts into rage that things are not as they once were. This is all total mongoloid shoot first, Q&A after logic. If they had just knocked they would’ve known I was mid-crud. What if I’d forgot to lock it and they barged right in on my butt-business? I feel stupid for even having to say “occupied.” I should ask Mrs. K. if she can send out a floor-wide memo about this or something.