A Sh--y Morning

I woke up at 6:00 on the dot to a fire truck siren wailing down State Street.

6:00am would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that I had my alarm set for 5:50. So when I saw the time on my phone, I was confused. I rolled over and checked—my alarm was totally powered off. I looked up. My ceiling fan was off. And my fan on the floor. Also off. The power had gone out.

OK. Ten minutes behind; no big deal. I got up and flipped some of my breaker switches.

Nothing.

While I peed in the dark of my bathroom, I checked our Facebook group for my community. The power went out and would be restored around 9am.

So I got dressed and headed out for a run. It was supposed to be an interval run on the treadmill, but with no power, that obviously wasn’t an option. So I did my six miles on the pavement. Several street lights were out.

Thankfully, my phone was charged, as were my headphones. No issues.

When I got back from my run, I had to strategically position my phone with its flashlight facing toward my shower head. I did my best to shower in the dark, which I feel like I had to do not too long ago. The power seems to go out a lot where I live (and today we had a driver under the influence to thank for that).

Thankfully, I have enough natural light in my bedroom, and a monster mirror by my bed. I was able to get ready there rather than my vanity.

However, today was hair washing day. And skipping it (on day three, after a six mile run) just wasn’t an option. So I had to braid my hair.

I realized that without power, I couldn’t blend my morning shake. No matter; I can shake it by hand. But that also meant no ice, and therefore, a very lukewarm shake.

I was careful not to open the fridge too many times, being thoughtful about what I needed to take out and put back in. I didn’t want our food to go bad, especially if it would take more than a couple hours for the power to be restored.

A lack of power also meant that the filter of my fish tank wasn’t running. I worried about that a little bit too.

I ask you this, my friends: Does anyone LIKE to start their week off by waking up late? Does anyone LIKE to not be able to dry their hair? Does anyone LIKE a lukewarm protein shake?

I submit that NO ONE DOES.

But you know what? It’s fine. I wasn’t going to dwell on the minor frustrations of my morning. I made it out the door on time, showered, with food in my belly. The day could only get better after that kind of morning.

Except that when I was a few blocks away from my work, I felt an urge. You know. The kind of urge that’s safe when you’re the only one in your car. The urge that might result in something stinky. The urge to pass gas.

So, I went ahead and let it go.

And I was filled with immediate regret. That didn’t feel like a standard fart. It didn’t even feel like a hot fart. No my friends. It felt like a liquid fart.

That’s right.

Five minutes from work, I sharted.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

What did I eat?

Can you see it through my pants?

Does it smell?

Why don’t I keep extra underwear in the car?

WHAT IS MY LIFE?!

I told myself to relax, figuring maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I’d get to the bathroom and see that I had freaked out for no reason.

No, no. It was bad. I cleaned up as best I could, was thankful for the added layer of garments (which I had to take off the bottoms), and for wearing black pants.

I’ve learned in my ripe old age that it never does any good to panic. I would take care of the situation as best I could, and not get sweaty and panicky.

It wasn’t a big enough disaster to send me home for extra clothes. Thank goodness.

It also wasn’t a big enough disaster to keep my boyfriend from cracking up on the other end of my text message, simultaneously concerned and wildly amused.

And because he laughed, I laughed.

Sometimes that’s all we can do.