(To the tune of 'Rawhide')
Sneezin, Sneezin, Sneezin,
Keep my legs a squeezin'
Gotta keep from pee-in'
In laughin and in crying
Depends I am a tryin'
Gotta be a dry spot on my hide
Sneezin', Sneezin' Sneezin
Gotta keep a squeezin'
Hope I'm not a pee-in
On this ride~!
Okay, the old, over-40 female brain kicked in long before the coffee this morning. This little diddy was rolling around in there (been watching to many Westerns) and the words were altered to, well, let's just say a really active bladder. The way some of us women dribble when we run, we should probably try out for Tarheel Basketball.
It's not just the dribbling, though. Does the bladder shrink with age? Apparently it does-to 3/4 the size of the glass of water I had before bed. The other 1/4 glass absolutely cannot, under any sleeping circumstances, be held until 7 a.m. It must be emptied at 4:15. Sorry- I don't make the rules.
And so, after flipping and tossing, trying to keep from squishing said bladder so I can get 14 more minutes of sleep, it never fails- Frank will toss the old leg over me. Ooh! Gotta go now! It's amazing how much air a fat woman can get while leaping out of bed on a mission.
It's also amazing how stupid a wiener dog (who was hiding under the bed) can be at that time of the morning. He sees this moment as his opportunity to greet me and weave between my feet. But nothing, not even a wiener-dog faux bearskin rug, will stop my appointment with the toilet.
I probably wouldn't step on him (well, purposely anyway) if I could see where I was going. Alas, it is one of Frank's set-in-stone constitutional rules: No lights in the bedroom at night. Nothing. Not even a night-light. If you think seeing a fat woman catch air as she leaps from bed is something, you outta see the 'fat-woman-running-in-the-dark-dance'! Leaping, climbing (over the laundry basket left in the path), kicking (your littlest toe on the door frame) and plunging (into the toilet where the seat was, once again, left up)- it's all in this newest dance that I discovered in my 40's.
But, don't feel sorry for all of us (and certainly don't laugh since you will be here too!). One day very soon, say 50-ish or so, I will get another good night's sleep. And thanks to Depends, my little grandson and I can spend 'quality time' together, shopping for our diapers.
Now, don't that just make you feel all better about old age?