I often tell the wee tree story around this time of year.
I don’t think I told it last year, though, so DD missed it.
I think he’ll appreciate it because he’s constantly goggling at how often I need to go to the loo.
We went to a dinner party on Sunday night and I popped to the bathroom before we left my place. We arrived at the dinner party 15 minutes later and I was already dancing from one foot to the next contemplating a polite time frame between saying hi to the hosts and bolting to use the facilities.
He was like Really?
And no, I don’t have diabetes. I got that checked about 18 months ago.
I just wee A LOT. I’m wondering if it’s anything to do with the weird genetic thing I’ve got called renal glycosuria, which spews lots of glucose into your body when you exercise too much or stress too much or something (stress and I are besties).
Maybe it makes you wee too much too.
Or maybe I’m just getting old.
Sometimes I’ll go two or three times between first climbing into bed and finally drifting off to sleep.
It’s VERY annoying.
And made worse by alcohol, caffeine, PMT etc.
That brings me back to the wee tree story.
I went to a kindy mums’ dinner in 2011 and regaled them – over numerous glasses of verdehlo – with the story of how I’d been caught short at the last kindy mums’ dinner and had a wee behind a tree on my walk home.
There was much hilarity towards the end of the night about me making sure to use the bathroom before leaving the restaurant. Ha-ha, I assured the assembled crowd, it’s all under control. And it was, at first. I wandered past a late-night road-repair crew and marvelled at their insouciance, digging and tarring and swivelling their “daymaker” spotlights into bedroom windows at 11pm. I decided I’d be the fumiest of fuming fumers if they did it outside my house at 11pm.
But then, as I approached the scene of my previous crime, I started to get all niggly in the bladder department. I passed the offending tree and thought, “no, no, it’s OK, I’ll make it this time” and “wow, that tree isn’t as discreetly placed as I thought”. I quickened my pace and turned into the long street that leads to my house. About halfway down the hill I had to run, pretty fast. I extracted my keys from my purse as I ran, readying them to plunge straight into the front door.
I dashed past the empty carport, briefly thinking, “My god! Someone’s stolen the car!” before remembering, “You left it at the restaurant, you silly, sozzled bint.” And then, blessed relief!
As opposed to the school mums’ dinner where I didn’t make it home in time and did a wee behind this tree …
See what I mean about it being rather public?
Song of the day: Wilson Phillips “Hold on”