Alarms, Bladders And Road Rage

For most of us, the day begins with an annoying noise.

Our alarm clocks remind us bluntly that we don't deserve another minute in bed and we should get up or it'll get louder.

The slumber button is always so difficult to find when your eyelids are still pasted shut.

The effort of finding the button and pressing it, finally silencing that ear-piercing din, albeit only for five minutes, is sufficient to get your brain working just enough to register that your bladder is screaming out for attention.

There is a squirming and a wriggling under the quilt as you attempt to find a posture that would give your bladder another couple of cc's capacity and, after realising that No! You ain't gonna have an accident, you settle back down to your slumbers.

The alarm peeps or rings as again.

'That was never five minutes' you think as you waste precious sleeping time struggling to read the time, in stead of just pressing the slumber button again.  I think that everyone does this so they can catch their alarms cheating.

Your bladder is increasing it's pressure for attention.

The slumber button pressed for a second time, you settle back into your warm bed, but by now you are starting to get a little crabby because ... damn it! ... you work hard and need your sleep.

The insistence of your bladder reminding you that you are in desperate need of taking a leek is ... excuse the pun ... pi$$ing you off and, in that special way of 'holding on' that you developed as a child, you begin to jiggle your legs in the hope that sloshing the contents of your by now basketball-sized bladder, will ease the problem.

The alarm peeps or rings as again.

The pressure by now is horrendous and you are faced with a choice: vacate or flood?.

Fuming, you decide against the latter and head for the loo.

Be careful stepping over the remains of your alarm clock, won't you!

After a pee timed at 4  minutes and 13 seconds, during which "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" was sighed several times, you admit to yourself "I shouldn't have waited so long".

From here on in, it's going to be a 'down hill' kind of day.

A shower fails completely to 'pick you up' and dressing (all those straps and things!) is soooooooooo difficult as your eyes, still convinced you should be in bed, are half closed and convinced you are just having a nightmare.

Slouching downstairs  you are determined to strangle anyone with the balls to say "Good morning!" to you.

Cereals don't help either and that smell of bacon and coffee that your other half is preparing just makes you want to vomit.

Eventually you leave for work and you hear radio reports of loads of road-rage incidents happening all along the stretch of road you are travelling on.

Funny that you haven't seen any of them.

Perhaps you would if only .... "Get outta the way you fugging ass hole!  Up yours!" ... those others would drive ... "Ba$tards! I'll kick yer head off'f yer shoulders!" ... more  ...  "Yeah? You and who's army?" ... considerately.

What happened at work?

No! Not today.

Maybe I'll rub your nose in it another time ...

... Erm, you did get to work, didn't you?