My Tempestuous Bladder

I don't know what the deal is, but I'm the type of person who doesn't have to go, doesn't have to go, doesn't have to go, and then suddenly WHOA, I gotta go.

My wife's the same way, and our kind is easy to spot - doing little chair dances in long meetings, sprinting down hallways as smoooothly as possible, or accepting refills on our drinks, aridly oblivious to the soon-to-be-urgent consequences.

Who invented complicated belt buckles, anyway? I'm thinking of writing a letter. I'm also thinking of fashioning my own belt buckle from an old car seatbelt, since those are designed with emergency unfastenings in mind.

I haven't had an accident yet in my adult life, but close calls are becoming disturbingly commonplace. And just wait 'til I get older... sheesh, I'll have the capacity of a contact lens case and a desperate look in my eye.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. Now.

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