I learnt something about my eyes today. According to a science textbook I'm helping out with at work, "Cones are tightly packed in the fovea, which is specialized for high-acuity vision". Sounds as though my foveas are having a great time, and the rest of me doesn't seem to have been invited. Well, FINE, foveas. You've always been "too cool" for me. Go on, have your fun, you stoned losers. You'll never amount to anything. I'm going to go hang out with my cochleas. At least they listen.

As I continued to work on the same book (well, information that will be going onto a DVD to accompany the book), I read this:

... and frowned. I had to read it again. As it happens, what I thought I�d read was:

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Also related to work is the following random snippet of conversation that I wish I hadn't heard:

"Oh, so she's a poo-smearer."

The definite tone of well-that-explains-it-all in my colleague's voice as she said this continues to mesmerise and horrify me. But of course! She smears poo!

I think I'm in segue heaven, because speaking of poo, I was thinking just this morning, whilst availing myself of the facilities at work, that it's a damn shame that the installation of carpeting on bathroom walls would constitute such a gross breach of good hygiene practice. It is my firm belief - and unlike other parts of me, which I've no doubt will only get softer as time goes by, my beliefs do seem to be getting firmer the older I get - that the acoustics in public bathrooms are inappropriate at best. The whole setup seems designed to maximise both volume and resonance, and I don't know about you, but that certainly isn't what I want from my bathroom experience.

What set me thinking about this was something that happened today. There are three cubicles in the women's bathroom at work, and I had happily settled down in the end one, glad that I had the place to myself so I could relax. Within seconds, someone else came in and occupied the cubicle at the other end (because those are the rules), and immediately set about gracing my ears and - sadly - my mind's eye with a veritable treat of stereophonic proportions. When there's no other sound but the quiet hum of the air conditioning, that kind of thing is really difficult to ignore.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm so peculiar about sharing the sounds of my poo, or being assaulted by the sounds of other people's poos, in the work bathroom. Perhaps because these are people I see every day, yet barely know. They're not family (the White Zone - safe), and they're not people I'll never see again (the Black Zone - safe): they're in that hazily defined grey area in between. You don't share poo with Grey Zone people.

Anyway, it was at this point that I stopped to consider the acoustics. Some sort of soundproofing would be nice. Padding on the doors and walls, perhaps. Complimentary earmuffs for stall occupants. Anything to get rid of that DAMN ECHO.

(Billy Connolly shares his experience of closing the lavatory door only to turn around and discover that the previous occupant's business was still there waiting for him. I'll let you enjoy this for yourself.)

In talk that is completely unrelated to bum pudding, I managed to commit a lovely social faux pas the evening before my wedding. I'm wondering now whether I've already told this story, or at least part of it. Now that I'm in my "late twenties" and my mind is going, there is a good chance that I'll be telling it again in about ten minutes' time.

Anyway, my family and bridesmaid were going out for dinner at a large pub in Towradgi (where, I might add, the food was surprisingly good) and I was chatting with the bridesmaid about how I'd been very humbled to have received a couple of wedding cards and presents from people at work. The first card and the presents, which came from the guys in my department, surprised me completely. The second card, which came from a completely different department full of people I don't often deal with, floored me altogether.

Me: I can't believe they thought to do that. It was so sweet!
Bridesmaid: Well, I guess you touched more people than you realised you'd touched.
Me: Yeah. I'm a whore.
Table full of people right next to where I'm standing: *forkdrop*
*silence*

Of all things to hear me saying over the pub din, that had to be it.

Anyway, you'll have to excuse me. It's dinner time and I have to go and re-heat last night's leftover templates.