After the Turkey Trot yesterday, I can barely move today. There isn’t enough ibuprofen in the universe. I did have pork chops and a homemade pumpkin pie concrete for dinner, though, so that alleviates the pain somewhat.
It’s time for another book #2 update. 13K words in. 30K is out of reach, but if I really grind it out, I think I can get 20K before December 1. We will see!
I surveyed the bathroom from the door, bending over (a great risk at this point) to see if there was anyone in any of the stalls. I was alone. To my left were the sinks, to the right, the urinals, with the doorless stalls at the far corner. I zipped across the cold concrete floor, dropped my drawers, and barely got myself into the seated position when what must have been a broken fire hydrant erupted from within my bowels. I quivered as wave after wave came, and the pain was such that I felt as if I was going to throw up at the same time.
After what seemed like weeks, but couldn’t have been more than a few moments, the geyser relented, and I panted, sweating, and shivered as chills washed over me. I felt somewhat better, and contemplated how I was going to clean myself up using one-ply toilet paper so cheap it practically had sawdust in it. No sooner had I reached out to the toilet paper roll than the broken hydrant in my bum unleashed another burst. This second stream wasn’t nearly as bad as the first but it was far from pleasant.
And then, the unthinkable happened. I heard footsteps approaching the bathroom. I immediately panicked. I was in the worst of positions, literally more exposed than I had ever been at school before. My fervent prayer was that the owner of those feet would keep on walking past the boys’ room, but such was not to be the case.