My car is misbehaving again. I know, I know, to be expected of a ten year old car, but still frustrating. I’m supposed to be on Annual Leave today and I planned on spending the day “bunnying”.
Instead, because of the blasted car Gar and I are in Tallaght for most of the day, waiting to hear from the garage what is wrong with the car, how empty it’s going to leave my bank account and when we can come collect it.
So we’re here in Burger King, killing time, WWILFing courtesy of the free WiFi and eating more mini pancakes than is healthy (btw, it doesn’t take many; they really, really are bad for you!). Then I head into the bathroom, and find this:
I love everything about this. The way it’s rusting and torn up, that any company in the WORLD would name themselves Hubris, that their logo is Icarus, or that I washed my hands thoroughly, ignored the lack of papers towels. . . only to discover that, in my hubris, I failed to check if the dryers worked before I washed my hands.
And both stalls have occupants.
So I stand there with my dripping hands, wishing one of the stalls would open up so I can grab some tissue to dry my hands. Because it’s either that, or wipe them on my jeans and come away with hands covered in cat hair and probably as dirty as before I washed them.
I had to laugh.