“I don’t know who used this toilet last,” Mim is saying as we both scrub down one of the first floor bathrooms, “but it had to be a guy!”

“Why is that?” I ask. I feel a little bad that she’s having to clean this particular toilet. We’ve been taking turns since there are four bathrooms that we have to clean today with the rooms that are assigned to us for this particular day of the week, but my toilet was relatively clean. Hers… was not. We could smell it the moment we walked into the confined space. She looked at me and that always cheerful expression faded away as she exclaimed how unfair it was that she got a poopy toilet, and mine probably hadn’t even been used.

“Are you kidding?” Mim asks, making a fake gag

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