As I see it the stop at the men’s room
is of a piece with the morning’s work, a chore
like the other administrative chores I am responsible for, and
therefore, though it obviously doesn’t help the library administration, it
is part of my job in a way that the
lunch hour of sunlight, sidewalks and pure volition is not.
The library pays me to make six visits a day
to the men’s room — three in the morning, and three
in the afternoon: my work is segmented by stops in
this tiled decompression chamber to urinate on a deodorant cake.
Paraphrases from the novel The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker.