After my last post, I received some lovely comments about how I was handling adversity with grace and dignity and such–which is all quite nice, and much appreciated, but clearly these folks didn’t see me this morning trying to dress myself and putting both legs into one leg of my pyjama pants (which are, by the way, perfectly acceptable for day wear when you’re lounging around the house and not going out in public. Okay, maybe Walmart. Provided you top them with a sweatshirt with sparkly kittens on it.)

And so, in the interest of presenting a balanced view, let me share what happened a couple of nights ago. True story.

commode

Another one of the contraptions that I have that makes life easier is a bedside commode. I can get up in the middle of the night (which I, as a menopausal woman with a small bladder, am wont to do), slide out of bed, and do my business quickly and easily.
Relatively easily.

On this night, I sat down only to realize that the seat was up. Now, this is not nearly as bad, say, as realizing the bucket part hadn’t been replaced and I’d peed all over the carpet (acceptable for puppies but not me, yet).

So, I’m sitting down on the bucket rim and realized that a vacuum of sorts has been created and firmly securing butt to bucket. I tried standing up, but the bucket was holding fast. I wiggled a bit, but that sucker was not coming loose. I can only lift myself up from the commode using both arms on the handles for balance, so didn’t have a free hand for assistance.

I wriggled a bit more (nope, I hadn’t peed yet, if you’re wondering), shifting back and forth and side to side with some geriatric washroom hip hop moves (geriatric hip-hop, Madonna is making it popular in all the trendy New York dance clubs). As much I shook, shook, shook, that booty, there was no way I could dislodge that butt bucket.

Left with no way out, I had to wake Mike up for assistance. I pointed out that hey, reality and rap stars everywhere were paying big bucks for butt implants, and I’d gotten mine augmented for nothing more than forgetting to put the seat down. In spite of it all, we were laughing, and in short order I was sprung from my trap.

There really is humour in everything, even when it seems like life is going down the toilet.
But you can be sure I check that the seat is down.

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