In a day like no other, as you prepare for a productive day (or pretend it’s going to be productive), you do what most people do after waking up; you empty your tank. It is a simple thing you could do in the middle of the night, when you are awaken by your bladder, with a gnawing discomfort that rushes down your legs. Sometimes, you take action and make an effort to alleviate the bladder-full sensation – mostly when you have nightmares and want to reset your sleep – but other times, you toughen up and go back to your dreams, even if it means hallucinating waterfalls.
It’s all fine, it really is, until you are awake and find yourself leaking droplets as you rush to the magic bowl. And then it hits you, you aren’t senile, and senile people are prepared and wear diapers. You are not toddler potty training either, so that is not an excuse. Who are you trying to find an excuse for, anyway? These thoughts are all running through your head.
Ding! Ding! You are about to panic. The toilet roll is almost finished and you barely had enough for the morning. You always plan ahead and you know you have more toilet rolls in the cabinet (after all, you always buy before you run out). This time, however, you seem to have misplaced the backup supplies – misplace is a word you use in your head when you are in denial of your own negligence – but, there is a store near your workplace and you can buy a few rolls. And you do, and you are happy with your rolls, like you have just received your first Nintendo console. Even your co-workers stare at your proud grinning, and stay away from you for the day. But, you don’t care, because you know that after work, your “cushions” will be all taken care of.
You come home, relax, have dinner, and get ready for sleep. You reach for the new toilet roll, but it isn’t there. You forgot to take it out of bag when you came home. You live home alone so you walk like a penguin with your pants down, rummaging through your things to find it. There is nothing, and you retrace your steps only to find out that you never came home with the bag.
When you are in a panic, nothing logical comes to mind. A shower would solve things, but what about in the morning? What would you use? Q-tips? Tissues? Paper towels? A towel? Napkins? A loofah? You could, and only you would know about it.
As you waddle back to the bathroom feeling defeated, you turn some lights off, fix a few tilted picture frames, and close your hallway closet. You come to a full stop and remember why the closet was left opened. You slide the doors and you find 24 rolls of toilet paper.