Hot. Hot. HOT. Yesterday afternoon was sweltering. I got home, sat infront of lappy and refused to heed my internal reminders to head to the gym. Why the hickory would I? After all I was already sitting in a sweaty “glow” without the exertion of fruitful exercise. As I sat in the one official summer dress I own, Sara and I made grandiose plans for the Sugar Clouds Club. All this weighty mental exertion, and excruciatingly humid air, made me super thirsty. So after two bowls of cereal, I proceeded to drink half of the delicious Cranberry juice. Realising that I would need regular water to supplement the hydration process, I began to fill my teacup with water. And so it went back and forth all evening, until approximately twelve a.m.
Now if you were part of my immediate family, your first bit of advice to me would be to empty the ol’ two gallon tank before I head to bed. Being me, I would of course offer a look of disdain and slam my door shut. However, considering my history of bed-wetting (a thing I think I’ve overcome), that would be valuable advice. The ironic thing is, now that I’m almost 18, no one has had the pleasure of doing so in quite awhile, so instead my wonderful subconscious friends(Kat and Kittya) took over the delightful task. Knowing that I wouldn’t be going to sleep until two, I decided to ignore the advice. After all, I certainly didn’t have the urge to go “potty” and I would be up long enough to unload any excess. Upon the end of the movie at two, I promptly fell asleep. Oh, little did I know.
I woke with a start this morning. I really, really, really wanted to go back to sleep. There were still ten minutes left until** Uncle SLF would be done with the bathroom. I rolled over and realised that it was hopeless. There was no way I would be able to go back to sleep, because…..I really, really, really had to “pee”. -______- Irritated I jumped from the bed, grabbed my towel, and sprinted for the door. Holding my towel against me with one arm, hopping from one leg to the other, I twised and turned the stupid lock until it opened. “Yes!!” my mind screamed, “made it with time to spare!!!” Then I looked up. I had made it out of my room, but the bloody bathroom was still occupied. Utter desperation raced through me. For the love of dear God!!! I really, really, had to go!! I knocked on the door, calling out my need in strangled tones. There I was, hopping from leg to leg, skittering from one end of the hall to the other, only to hear the wonderful news. My uncle was also using the “watercloset“, for the longhaul.
My friends, I hopped, and skipped, and jumped, and danced. Looking every inch the fantabulous idiot. Knowing that I probably might not make it, I ran back to the bedroom, grasping my towel in place. I looked around frantically. What the hickory could I do? It was too early to run down to my aunt and uncle’s, in my towel at that! Even so, I just might not make it down the stairs. My tank was so full that the old cross and hold trick just wasn’t working. I bounced and fretted. If I wet the bloody floor, there would be a mess to clean up after. If I stood in the hall, and it happened I would be blasted by mother. I didn’t see any sanitary cups in my room. The danged plastic bottles were all too small to attempt the ol’ camping feat. I was about to combust in pain and sheer desperation. Then, my eyes fell on the dirty towel in my laundry pile. Jackpot!
I dropped the folded towel on the floor. If I couldn’t hold on, atleast there would only be a towel to witness the humiliation. I bounced, and crossed. Danced and skipped, and finally with tears in my eyes I gave up the battle.
**not “the” uncle