My theory that putting two Pressgroves together will cause the Universe to spontaneously explode, has been proved.
A few weeks ago I’d been with little brother, Rick, and ended up in the Great Bend Emergency Room.
This week, I was with older brother, Mike, and we blew the entire electrical grid at The Legends. (You’re probably wondering what this has to do with peeing in the dark – but as Dad would say “Stay in the boat and see where it goes.)
I’d conned my older brother, Mike, into riding with me to the large shopping area to look at camping equipment. Don’t laugh at me. I really am going camping…some day.
One of the things holding me back is the bathroom situation. I have the world’s smallest bladder and I didn’t want to spend my camping evenings stumbling around in the dark trying to find the public outhouse – not to mention the “ewwww” factor of an outhouse.
At the camping store, I planned to purchase my own commode and a privacy tent. I could explain to you what that is, but the internet does a much better job.
“Need an alternative to littering your campsite with poo holes? Check out the Cleanwaste Privacy Tent. This portable outhouse shelters your Cleanwater portable toilet, so you can do your business in private.”
Mike and I put the tent into the shopping cart and headed over to look at flashlights. He cleverly pointed out that a headlamp flashlight would be ideal – hands free. Thrilled with my purchases, we drove to lunch at a nearby restaurant, where we had a lovely meal.
Because I have the world’s smallest bladder, I headed off to the bathroom. I’m sitting there, minding my own business when POP! The lights go out.
My first thought was – Dang, I could really use that headlamp right about now.
My second thought was – I wonder if it really is so dark, I can’t see my hand in front of my face. I’m waving my hands in front of my face when I heard whimpering from the stall next door.
A little girl whined “Mom, what’s going on?”
Her equally terrified mother said, in a rising voice of panic. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Hold on,” I said. “You stay where you are and I’ll wander around until I can find the door.” So there I was, arms straight out in front of me, walking around until I hit a wall. I slid my hands along the wall (trying to ignore my “ewww, bathroom wall!” voice) until I located the door.
Pulling it open, light flooded the room. The mother and daughter ran out, leaving me with the dilemma that I needed to wash my hands. If I let go of the door I’d be plunged into darkness and, even if I could find the sink, I’d have to run my hands along the wall to find the door, sending me into a lifetime spiral of DARK!…dirty hands…LIGHT!…dirty hands, DARK!…
Even though Husband disagrees, I think this is justification for me wearing the headlamp all the time. Don’t you?
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I love reading Crazie Town!
Reminds me of my family stuff LOL
I’ve nominated you for the Liebster Award.
You can find the details here http://wp.me/p2MHY5-nl
Trust me, I come from a long line of campers. You now need a portable hand washer.
Thanks for the tip. I think.
Just keep your headlamp in your purse. I’ve got a little LED light in my purse, though I’ve never had to use it. But then, I’m not from Crazie Town.
Headlamp. Purse. Check.
my idea of roughing in is taking my own luggage into the hotel!
I camped as a kid and it seemed effortless. I wonder if that was because my mother took care of everything.
I don’t think you need to wear your headlamp — most of the time your third eye works just fine! But maybe you should wear rubber gloves all the time…….LOL
Hmmm, gloves? Good idea!
Thanks for the LOL. I live for those!
Thank you for your support. I’ll let Husband know.