Yesterday, I walked through the makeshift non-revolving door (and by 'makeshift' i mean that this door has always actually been there but strangely has a permanent sign on it saying 'do not use. use the revolving door'. and if there is one thing i have learnt about london, it's that they love a process and do not question the authority of a sign telling them which door to use. indeed.) to get into my security conscious building, and while fumbling for my pass which allows me to scan through to the elevators, i accidentally knocked a tampon out of my handbag and somehow managed to kick it across the floor as i walked.
It flew about 10m ahead of me and during the initial shock, possible scenarios flashed in front of me: Should i pretend it wasn't me and keep walking? should i run after it and pick it up? or should i make a bigger spectacle and pretend it was part of an art project that was too contemporary for most of them to understand anyway?
The seconds passed like hours.
I scuttled after it and picked it up.
It was a real low point.
But then i remembered the fact that we're getting a new revolving door and things were ok again.
revolving door! weeeeeee!