I had no chance at Monday today. I lost to Monday first thing this morning. It was ugly. It started in my sleep.
I dreamt that I had superpowers last night and into this morning. I often have superpowers or omnipotence in my dreams. Go figure. But this time there was a bigger drawback. Anytime I used my powers I’d have deep excruciating abdominal cramps. I remember in my dream I saved a group of pretty hot girls from a building that was crumbling, and then it felt like a knife was stabbing me in the stomach. And then I changed a tire for a group of boy scouts on their way camping, and then again I had those cramps again.
Changing a tire to me is a superpower, and it’s my dream.
So in my dream I had to choose whether to use my powers and die of pain, or live as a mortal without such pain. I never got to the end of my dream-more-nightmare, and it doesn’t matter how it ended because dreams are just fucked-up manifestations of what’s really going on. What was going on for me, was the start of explosive diarrhea…and probably my control freakiness resurfacing in my sleep as superpowers.
Yes, how gross, I know. Diarrhea. Blah blah blah.
When I finally awoke and realized there was a war going on towards a poopy end, I clenched my asshole tight and snuck out of bed quietly as to not awaken Davy to my churning intestines and possible wet farts. You know already, how ridiculous I am about poop stuff with husband Davy and the fart that never happened. I don’t know what I could have eaten that gave me such butt hole hell, but this morning my objective wasn’t to figure out what gave me diarrhea. It was to get to the toilet without an accident. My stupid dream had nothing to do with superpowers after all.
As soon as I closed our bedroom door to run to the bathroom Noah whined from his room, Mama…maaaama…maaaaaama!
It wasn’t a pretty Monday morning. I’m okay with losing this one. Monday wins. You fucking bitch. Monday has to be a bitch. It can’t be anything else.
Incidentally, there’s an end to this diarrhea story even though there was no end to the dream. After thirty minutes of being in and out of the bathroom and trembling, I crawled into bed whimpering and broken. I was dramatic about it all…if you can believe it.
Best of all though is that I told Davy the whole story from start-to-finish just like this blog, but with infinitely more gross details, because he’s my husband. I broke though another barrier, in my book. Plus, Davy’s reaction was sympathetic and empathetic and he tried his best not to laugh while asking about my superpowers. That made Monday a little better.
He’ll probably read this later and shake his head. It’s too late. I’m publishing…
Since I offered up spots during the weekends for guest blogging I’ve received a good number of responses, and I look forward to sharing. There seems to be a few things plaguing or delaying potential bloggers. Choosing a topic.
If you make yourself choose a topic it’s already ruined. Let it come to you. I don’t, however, recommend blogging about something as gross as diarrhea.