I grew up hearing two stories about myself and peeing. Pee stories came up A LOT as I was a bed wetter for what seemed like forever.
My mom had a routine of getting me up at some point in the night in hopes that if she got me to pee then, I'd be dry in the morning. So, on a typical night she'd get me out of bed, walk me into the bathroom, and then I do my business in the proper spot. All the while sleeping, of course. One time, for some unknown reason, she got me up and then sat me on her lap and embraced me in a big ol' hug. She was rewarded with my assumption that I was sitting on the toilet...not her lap. Bleck!
And then there's the story about when we were on a flight to Hawaii. Not a short flight by any stretch of the imagination. I can't remember if she said I was fussy or just super busy, but she was definitely very excited and relieved when I fell asleep on her lap. Not long after I let loose a bladder full. Story goes she was more worried about me waking up than the ever chilling wet spot on her outfit. I must've been a handful!
With both stories my mom consistently commented on how at first it wasn't bad...so nice and warm and all. Yeah? Well today I must concur that it was, indeed, nice and warm at first ("nice" might be too strong of a word, but warm definitely fits), and then the December temps took it icky and cold in short order.
Yup, I'm not a fan of moisture.
Inspired by the magic of Wonderlandia
My painting was a victim of moisture, too. Goo from the sunflower fell on this one, too.
My painting was a victim of moisture, too. Goo from the sunflower fell on this one, too.
And me, in my infinite wisdom, thought dripping tea in spots would make it just right. :-)
Whatcha think?
No comments:
Post a Comment