Ten Minutes of a 36 Hour Day

This is a recollection of my life, i.e. my diary. The names have been changed to protect the not so innocent. Ok enough with this boring disclaimer. Welcome to my life! Damn it I’m not sure if you’re welcome, but here we go. You can’t possibly imagine how complicated taking a crap can get. For one I’m on “the throne” trying to squeeze one out before my boss calls me over the intercom to come sit in on the hundredth meeting today. Two, it’s lunch time so you know my husband is checking in to make sure I go find something to eat and tell me the latest garage (he works in one) gossip and to make matters worse I’m constipated. It feels like the turd is trying to take my intestines with it on the way out. “I don’t think it gets worse,” I yelp, but just then I look at the dispenser and realize that there is no toilet paper.
I swear, life just gets so complicated when you’re young, in college, married, hold down a full time job and currently live with your 50 year old mother. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, my name is Hope, yeah no comments, mygrandma gave me that name.Ha. I am originally from the Caribbean, specifically Jamaica, and no I’m not from Kingston. Jeez, the first thing people say when you tell them you’re from Jamaica is, “Are you from Kingston?” No genius, not everyone comes from Kingston. On to better things, yeah I am the youngest of four girls and my parents are divorced. It is a typical family but I must say this, my fam’s got flavor. Our family tree has descendants from India, England and Ireland. It’s a sweet mix. All my siblings are, as I was taught in Spanish class, “muy bonita” which means they are gorgeous. No more boring you with the family details; back to business. So here I am “stuck in a bowl,” literally, with no way of getting help when Iremember the cupboard below the sink. So, as carefully as I can, I shuffleoff to get help. “Wow,” I think, “there’s a whole lotta of stuff down here,” out of the corner of my eye I spot something hiding under the plunger. I feel a drip of pee run down my leg as I grab the container of baby wipes. It’s nottoilet paper, but it works.