The Swabs..They Mock Me

Earlier, just as I was sitting down to watch a movie (Serenity), I realized that I'd better make a potty run before hand. Half way to the bathroom, I realized that I'd had to pee for quite a while and had been putting it off as I piddled around the house.. no wait, not piddled, that's a bad choice of words. If I'd been piddling around the house, I wouldn't have had to pee now would I?

So my steps quickened and as you may know, the mere sight of the toilet makes the urge to relieve one's self of bodily fluids far greater. I don't know why this is, probably some sort of Pavlovian conditioning, who knows. As I began the process of disrobing those particular girly bits from which those bodily fluids emerge, I somehow managed to knock an entire, freshly opened super-econo sized box of dollar store brand cotton swabs into the toilet. I'm not sure how this happened, other than the fact that they were sitting on the shelf of one of those wobbly-legged behind-the-toilet organizer things which must have at some point come into contact with my sizeable rear end. I'm not really sure, it's all sort of a blur.

Of course, when I realized what had happened, I immediately scooped the now skanky toilet water filled container from the toilet and tossed it into the trash. I was standing there, garments pushed about half way between here and there, looking into the toilet which now had about thirty cotton swab floaties in there. They had to come out. I was not sticking my hand in there. One thought came immediately to mind:

Slotted Spoon!

In a split second, I rationalized that if I could get the spoon and get the cotton swabs out before using the facilities, it could be used again after being run through the dishwasher at least four times. If I could not put off the inevitable until completing my swabby search and retrieval mission, the spoon would have to be doused in flammable liquid and set fire, never to be used for any purpose whatsoever again.

Keep in mind, I had to pee really bad. I waddled as fast as I could, trying to clench those muscles that required clenching, garments still between here and there, down the hall and into the living room, half way to the kitchen realizing that I'd just passed by an open window and coming to my senses, stopping to pull the afore mentioned garments back to "here." I made it to the kitchen, opened the utensil drawer, then remembered.... I do not own a slotted spoon of any kind.

Fuck! Shit! Dammit! DANG!

Now I no longer had to pee, I had to piss like the proverbial Russian racehorse. The movie was starting.

Dilemma.

I went back into the bathroom and stared at the cotton swabs, floating in there, mocking me. I couldn't stand it anymore, I had to go.

So just in case you ever need to know, thirty cotton swabs will flush without any immediate repercussion. So far. The toilet is making strange noises, but then, it always does, so I'm not sure if they completed their little journey to the goldfish graveyard or not. Only time will tell.

My ear itches.