It’s only Tuesday, and there have already been four times this week that I’ve had a hard time taking a simple leak.
I’m drinking plenty of fluids. I’m trying to get up from my desk to slosh my innards around at least once an hour. I know where the bathrooms are. So the problem can’t be with my plumbing.
But it might stem from this video game I’m living in. Every time I get up to head to the bathroom, people come careening down the hallways and darting out from between the cubes at me with papers they want me to look at. Or they stand three deep outside my door with endless rounds of questions.
If I weren’t at work with a very clear list of job responsibilities hanging over my head, I might look at all this attention as proof that I’m wildly popular.
If I were a conspiracy theorist, I might interpret all this as a guerilla marketing tactic staged by the Buy New Underwear Foundation.
And if I could just squeeze through the throngs and be able to take a freakin’ piss once in a while, I might be able to focus long enough to write a blog post that was perhaps a wee (HA! WEE!) bit more clever.