BLADDER WARS

My dear, sweet, pretty Interwebs. Loves of my soul, lights of my life, and, dare I say it, winds beneath my wings. Can I level with you? I can level with you, right? I can tell you a secret, a story, a tantalizing tid-bit? A tid-bit that, should it be recounted by Adam, if ever he were that brave, might make it seem as though I maybe, sort of, kind of lost my mind today.

Now to be fair, anyone in my position would have reacted in a similar fashion. Hell, you might not even have to be pregnant. Or overly emotional/hormonal/in furious need of emptying your bladder. In fact, I cannot fathom anyone anywhere who would NOT agree with my scorching anger.

You see, Adam and I were driving home from lunch, a lunch in which I consumed quite a bit of fluid. It was about the time we GOT INTO THE CAR that I realized I was going to be hard pressed to hold my bladder the whole way home. But I was determined. I was persistent. I already IN THE CAR.

And so we drove. And we drove, and we drove, and we drove. And while we drove, Baby Punchass took the opportunity to River Dance upon my ever expanding bladder and Adam took the opportunity to show me just how many potholes there are along that particular stretch of 75 south. And despite it all, I persevered. I held it and did not so much as moisten the seat as we arrived in our ridiculously bumpy driveway. I held it while I chased Adam toward the door and urged him to HURRY THE ---- UP ALREADY, LADY WITH A BABY. I held it while I tossed what was in my hands but not so long as to remove my coat. And I continued to hold it as I lifted the lid... only to find the disgusting, dirty remnants of the Roommate's morning routine (and by Roommate, I am not referring to Adam or Guinness).

I'll confess. At this point, I was pissed, not only because I had to pee more fiercely than anyone has ever had to pee before, but because THIS WAS NOT THE FIRST GODDAMN TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED. I slammed the toilet seat down in disgust and flushed the contents before turning to punch at the bathroom door in frustration.

I took a jagged, seething breath and it was then I realized the flushing sound? Wasn't happening.

I lifted the lid to find a clogged and swirling mess, and it was at that point that what Adam may refer to as me LOSING MY MIND happened. I STORMED out of the bathroom door screeching and yelling and throwing my coat at the couch while Adam looked at me with what can only have been a mixture of concern and apprehension.

"HE CLOGGED THE GODDAMN TOILET!"

"Okay. Calm down."

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I HAVE TO ----ING PEE!"

Adam hastily made his way into the bathroom, emerging but a moment later.

"Okay. Toilet's fixed."

And I stormed my way back into the bathroom, still utterly disgusted and mumbling the entire way. Perhaps even glaring through tears of frustration and loathing. And you want to know what? I'm STILL disgusted. He is a goddamn adult. A goddamn adult who has lived with OTHER PEOPLE his entire life. A goddamn adult who should know how to FLUSH THE ----ING TOILET after EVERY use. And since he DOESN'T, since he seems to have no issue being disgusting and irresponsible and a general pain in the ass, I see no reason to be nice.

Except it makes Adam mad when I'm not nice.

So I'm forced instead to ignore his existence as best I can, and roll my eyes behind his back whenever he opens his stupid freaking mouth, and pray and beg that his ploy to buy a house works and that he will, in fact, be gone by the end of the month (never to be invited back should I have my way). Dear God, please make him be gone by the end of the month. I don't think my questionable blood pressure can take much more.