Attack of the cleaning people.

Despite P-Boy's text message at 5 a.m. today, I couldn't drag my ass out of bed to go to the gym. Instead, I repeatedly hit the snooze button.

The bad thing about that, aside from not working out, is that I had to deal with traffic. My 30-minute drive to downtown Miami turned into about 90-minutes, just because I left two hours later. The long commute was compounded by a worry that I wouldn't make a 10 a.m. meeting in Kendall.  Rush, rush, rush.

To make matters worse, I had to go.  You know..."go."

So I parked the car, raced into my building and into the men's room on the first floor. No go; it was being cleaned.  I went up to the third floor and same thing. On the fourth floor where my office is?  Ditto.  By this time, I'm pretty annoyed, especially since the cleaning people usually hit the 4th floor around 10:30. Why the fuck are they there more than an hour early?

At this point, I'm getting pretty uncomfortable. I raced to my office, picked up a notebook, found my assistant and got the directions to the meeting.

With cleaning folks still out in force, I thought I'd be smart and go to another building, the one where my office used to be. So I walk to the men's room there and whaddya know? The cleaning lady is there?  Jesus H. Christ! When the hell did we get so many cleaning people?

Finally, at long last, I found a men's room on the second floor that was open and with no cleaning people in sight.

Right now, nearly 12 hours later, it's all rather amusing. But at the time, let me tell you...when you gotta "go" and the same time you gotta go...it's not a pretty thing.