Day Twelve - I Really Have To Go

My roommate usually doesn't get up until 8:30. About every two weeks, however, on a random weekday he rises around my new wake-up time.

Waiting for the bathroom - we've all done it, whether for a roommate, sibling, the cat, whoever. The ten or fifteen extra minutes in the morning are really meaningless. None of that bothers me. What gets to me is the randomness. And, when I wake up having to pee, it makes for a fun morning.

I stand in the kitchen, staring at the closed bathroom door, and I have to pee. Read part of a magazine. I have to pee. Pace, from the front door back to the fridge, from the mirror back to the kitchen sink. I really have to pee. Read the magazine again - wow, look what Matt Damon is up to, bringing clean water to India - then walk to the fridge, study the magnet that tells us how to divide the recyclables, wonder who drew the anthropomorphic trashcans, peer out the window, think about the neighbors, see that's it flurrying and GOOD LORD I HAVE TO PEE.

Right before I consider relieving myself in an old beer bottle, the door opens. Thank god.

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Not much else to report. I'm waking up, going to the gym - so far so good. Eight more days.