Ask Rachel

Dear Rachel,

So a man on our floor in our office building has taken to using the bathroom immediately adjacent to our office as his place of “doing business.” This, despite the fact there is a perfectly fine men’s room closer to his office on his side of the building. It doesn’t really seem fair that we have to deal with his aftermath while he returns to his odor-free office. How do we politely drop the hint that dropping a bomb in our immediate vicinity is not appreciated?

- Clearing the Air

Dear Febreeze,

When you find a good bathroom, you stick with it. I’ve been there. Now, the best way to deal with this fella is probably to write a passionate letter to your local advice columnist. When she publishes it, you’ll want to scatter a dozen copies of the paper around the stall, each open to that page. Maybe even highlight a couple of them to draw his eye. If nothing else, you’ll up the circulation numbers, which’ll keep the advertisers happy.

– Smelt it, dealt it, Rachel

 

Dear Rachel,

I am all about buying local – in principle. But in practice, I have a hard time absorbing the cost. Take pants. I bought a pair of pants locally for about $100 and I adore them. I need more pairs so I don’t wear the same ones all week til laundry day. But I can’t spring $300 when I could buy them online for half that. How do I remain fiscally responsible while still being able to look myself in the mirror? (Nice-fitting pants help with the latter, I’ll admit.)

– Mismatched

Dear Rich Britches,

The only time I ever spent $100 on clothes was for a “Star Wars” costume in college. So I’m probably not the most sympathetic ear here. But, I run into the same problem with eating local. I say shop local when you can, and make rent when you can’t. Making rent is the only way to keep Durango’s upper crust swimming in their cash flow, so they can afford to shop locally – and spend way more than $300 doing it.

– Local second, Rachel

 

Dear Rachel,

There’s a whole community of people here who share the same interest I do. (So I don’t out myself, let’s pretend that we clog-dance.) If I ever want to clog-dance in this town, I have to clog-dance with the other clog-dancers. But there’s so much DRAMA. People make up these elaborate scenarios about who slept with whom, and who didn’t sleep with whom, and who pretended to sleep with whomever but didn’t. And I just want to clog dance. How can I rise above it all to keep clog-dancing?

– Clogged Up

Dear Twinkle Toes,

When the going gets tough, you find out who your real friends are, and who your real friends aren’t. There’s only one way to separate the wheat from the chaff: do your “business” in the closest facility at the start of each clog dance. Your true friends will tolerate your stank. Your enemies and frenemies won’t. And in any case, you’ll feel so free that you won’t care who slept with whomever anymore.

– Spare a square, Rachel

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