Restroom Review.

I'm a little persnickety about public restrooms.

I happen to have the smallest bladder of anyone I know-- I mean, seriously, I would enter this bad boy in a contest for World's Tiniest Bladder-- so I have little choice but to frequent the restroom of any establishment I visit. Last night, I happened upon what may be my favorite public restroom of all.

First of all, if the handicapped restroom is open, I go for it. There, I said. No shame. It's bigger, so it feels a little more like home. And I'm not parking there long term, so I figure by the time someone with an actual need comes along, I'll be headed out or long gone. The handicap restroom at Chuck's, where I had dinner last night, is the creme de la creme of handicap restrooms. Not only is it spacious, it's decorated too. I feel like I'm using a bathroom straight out of a Southern Living magazine in there. Furthermore, it has it's very own sink and mirror combo. So I don't have to wait in line to wash my hands, and I can check my teeth for wayward pesto as much as I like. I can even completely redo my hair without feeling like I'm bogarting mirror space. Frankly, it's delightful. The only downfall is my urgent need to explain to those at the "public" sink that I did, in fact, wash my hands in the privacy of my own stall; otherwise, they're likely to cast judging looks at me as I bypass the sinks and head straight for the door.

Second, restaurants are notorious for being cold. More importantly, I'm notorious for being cold. Rarely am I in public without a jacket; my poor posture is a direct result of my constant hunkering over and shivering. My seat at dinner last night was right next to the door, so I was constantly being blasted by unseasonably cold air as patrons came and went. Imagine my delight then when I walked into the restroom and realized what an oasis of warmth it was. It was tempting to camp out there in this blissful pocket of warmth, but I resisted.

As a plus, I spied an extremely cute pair of Mary Jane heels in the stall next to me-- you know how the stall dividers reveal just a glimpse of your neighbors' shoes. So, well done, bathroom buddy. Your choice of footwear this evening was phenomenal.