A Testy Situation

As difficult as this may be to understand, going to the bathroom is a waste of time for an obsessive-compulsive personality type. Bathroom business is unsanitary and it disengages any compulsive act going on at the time. I am ashamed but relieved to admit that I wait until the very last moment to stop what I am doing to toilet. Although it defies sensibility and pain management, I have been doing this bad habit since childhood.

As a teenager, I remember going outside to play in the summer time with the bathroom on my mind. About an hour later, my friends had no idea of the trouble I placed myself in. By waiting until the last moment, I put myself about a quarter of a mile from home and the nearest toilet. I am speaking from experience when I say that running with flapping buttocks may be the worst activity to engage in while holding back the inevitability of a bowel movement. Running for home, my stomach churned as my legs galloped.

Closer. Closer. I could see my house now but everything wasteful lined up for an immediate exit. I plowed through the front door and hustled for the downstairs bathroom with reckless abandon. I slammed the toilet seat down, hoisted down my pants, and eliminated with the proficiency of a laxative running its course. Afterwards, I exhaled and relaxed by leaning on the back of the toilet with my head back in a semi-supine position. I barely made it to the bathroom but all was again right with the world.

When I felt a hitchhiker crawling on my testicles, I suspected more trouble. I lifted my head from its tilt back position to check out the odd sensation. My worst fear was realized. Prancing around on my testicles was a menacing looking black wasp. If I had not defecated before, I would have voided at that precise moment. Bullets of perspiration eeked out of my body from every pore. Incapacitated in abject fear, I counter intuitively struggled to not flinch or move. The wasp had the cajones to stop walking, look up at me, then dug its stinger into my right testicle. I screamed and clawed myself silly trying to rid that insect from my possession. I believed I literally jumped out of my clothes there on the toilet. Counting two sultry honeymoons, I have never felt that much heat in my midsection. In a matter of minutes, this swell guy earned elephant balls. In what has turned out to be a lifetime war against stinging insects, I lost my first battle as bad as one can lose.

Call it the process of elimination but going to the bathroom when you are suppose to can take the sting out of waiting.