What's wrong with this picture?

I'm doing something wrong. In the past few months, my weekly schedule has filled up with back-to-back appointments. I'm wedging meetings in everywhere. I don't even have time to eat. Aren't professors supposed to spend all their time outside of class at the corner cafe discussing Chomsky over espressos and cigarettes? With summers off, so that the discussion can be continued at a cafe in Provence?

This morning I had to finish my course prep for my afternoon class and review my notes for my morning class. A colleague and dear friend, with whom I have an ongoing research program, insisted on meeting with me before my morning class. I really didn't want to meet with her; I was really terribly busy, but for some reason the word "no" never entered my mind. I was sufficiently noncommittal about the time of the meeting that I thought I could maybe avoid it. In the last 30 minutes before my class, I was elated that a sudden urgent call of nature pulled me out of my office and into the ladies' room.

"Perfect," I thought, "A few minutes to myself before class, she can't find me in here, and I can relax a little bit."

Of course not. She found me. She came into the ladies' room. She checked out the shoes under the stall doors. She hollered, "Angry Professor, is that you in there?" There was no escape. I had to meet with her. While I was pooping.

That's right. While I was pooping. Science just doesn't get any more cutting-edge than this.