I’ll blame it on the Diet Coke I drank as I waited for theelection returns in City Clerk Iris Rudman’s office Tuesdaynight.

Or maybe it was the combination of the soda pop and the sound ofthe trickling water in the fountain of the Government Complexlobby. Walking around in the lobby and sitting on the fountain’sedge were efforts to combat election night boredom. They didn’twork.

Anyway, at some point Mother Nature called, and I ended up inthe women’s restroom at the courthouse.

Girls, girls, girls . . . what a mess somebodymade.

That was my first thought.

There I stood, facing two options for toilets, and neitherlooked very promising.

As Mother Nature’s call grew louder, I knew I had to make adecision.

The one on the left was covered with tissue. I’m not sure ifthis was somebody’s idea of a prank or an effort to guard againstsome creepy, crawly things that reportedly lurk in publicrestrooms. Whatever the cause, the world’s toilet paper supply hadtaken a big hit.

By now, Mother Nature was screaming, and I was bouncing from onefoot to the other.

The toilet on the right at least looked clean, so I moved towardit.

And that’s when it hit me.

“No stalls! There aren’t any stalls in here!”

Two potties, a partition that looked like leftover officeequipment — but no stalls. No door to close to isolate me from therest of the world.

No privacy.

It didn’t matter that I was alone and the door to the restroomwas closed. These commodes had no modesty. They were right out inthe open.

I know that God intended for some things to be private business,and this is at the top of the list. Forget everything you’ve everheard about women ‘going in pairs.’ It’s not true.

What if somebody else came in? Who would get the biggest shock,me or them? The restroom door had a slide lock, so I put it intooperation for both my protection and that of the generalpublic.

Then I imagined what it must be like when court’s in session;just think about it.

. . . Seventy or eighty prospective jurors are gathered in thecourtroom; let’s say half of them are women. The judge bangs thegavel and calls for a 10-minute bathroom break. The only publicrestroom is a two-seater. . .

It’s got to be a nightmare. Probably makes Grant taking Richmondlook like a Sunday School picnic.

With my matter at hand attended to, I went back downstairs towait two more hours for the election returns. I abstained fromdrinking anything else.

I know there are more important issues in Lincoln County thanthe condition of women’s restroom at the courthouse, but I hope thepowers-that-be will consider making some improvements.

And if they do, I have some advice to the women who’ll be usingit.

Let’s keep it clean, girls.

Write to Nanette Laster at P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, Miss.39602, or e-mail to news@dailyleader.com.