This probably falls considerably far into the TMI category (hey maybe I should MAKE a TMI category on here, oh wait. I did already!) but in the middle of the night, if I have to pee, I pee in the dark. I figure, once your ass is down on the seat you’re good to go. Right?
I’ve memorized the route to/from bed and bathroom and everything within the bathroom that needs to be used (including the location of the soap dispenser) within a reasonable margin of error. So much so in fact, that I could do it with my eyes closed. Literally. Well okay… once I used the hand-cream side of the dispenser intead of the soap side by accident but I’ve come up with a work around for that as well. Always thinking I am.
There IS method to my madness. I know this isn’t the first time I’ve said this but I’m an insomniac and one that suffers far greater under times of stress. So if my eyes are closed and I’m half asleep? The insistent post-forty bladder is not going to pull me out of that quasi-slumber k?
So anyway, like I said I usually have the whole route and bathroom functions down to a science. Well as long as I don’t throw myself any curve balls or Tom doesn’t leave the seat up (ok that was only once but the blood-curdling yelp of my ass connecting with cold porcelain was enough for Tom to double check.)
So last night, I’m laying there trying to talk myself out of the need to pee. I mean I’m all comfy in my bed and my dozy self is saying “Psst come on, you can get through these lousy three hours of sleep without needing to get up to pee!” and my sensible self is saying “Now Belinda (yes my sensible self calls me by my given name) if you get up now you will guarantee yourself an uninterrupted 3 hours…” Dozy self reluctantly gave into sensible self and I trekked to the en-suite. Here’s when it all went wrong.
I dunno what I was doing but somehow I got a bit turned around and flailed out my hand to find the counter and get my bearings and my hand connected with my make-up bag that I had left on the counter that morning. I heard a few sickening crashes and, I’m sorry to say, a few “splashes”. I squealed and Tom called out to ask if I was ok. Ummm yeah but some of my make-up is, So. Not. Ok.
So, yeah, the light got turned on and with half squinched eyes I peered into the toilet to see what make-up had gone for the unexpected swim. In moments like these you almost want to just flush and leave it your own dirty little secret but, well hell, the noise already busted me and I’m sure the next big “dump” would have caused a log jam so the plumber would have narc’d me out anyway..
So with a weary sigh I went fishing and pulled out my face powder, a couple of brushes and a few other bits and bobs from the bowl. Annnnnnd then I proceeded to wash my hands for ten like minutes. Ew.
Needless to say those items that fell into the toilet were sacrificed and were provided a land-fill burial as opposed to the one at sea.
Happily, after work and my quality time dinner with Sean (we were alone tonight) we hit the drugstore and I bought replacements for the stuff I really needed. Of course being make-up is my “crack” I also bought stuff I didn’t need.
I am a cosmetic marketers wet dream. But seriously, how could you NOT buy a mascara called “Get Bent”?