I Almost Passed Out

The Things That Make Me Laugh

It’s morning. The two old people in the house are taking their time waking up. First, there must be coffee. I had heard somewhere that coffee is a natural laxative. Hey, it works for me. It also appears to work for my husband.

In an apartment that only has one bathroom, these morning movements will, occasionally, be timed so close together to be the one discordant spot in what, otherwise, is a perfectly beautiful spring morning.

Such was the case this morning.

My own problem is I cannot be hurried. It is difficult for me to do a wipe and swipe as fast as I used to be able to do when I was younger. I can’t reach that easily. Sometimes I lose my grip on the paper. It’s just not something you want to experience.

Hint: Don’t sail into old age overweight.

My husband, though I have told him repeatedly, gives me no warning of an imminent dump. He stands up. It’s all over. He evidently has no warning. So, this morning he’s outside the bathroom door, frozen, because if he takes another step, disaster will strike. He cries, “Hurry up! It’s coming out. It’s going down my leg. Oh, dear God, it’s too late. It’s in my pants.”

I flush and push past him to get out of the bathroom and out of his way. I get as far as the hall closet, right opposite the bathroom, and have to hold on because I’m laughing so hard. Hard to hold on to louvered doors, but I did my best, though I got slightly dizzy.

It’s just cheap entertainment when a dump makes you laugh.