I wish I could outsource my bowel movements -- pay someone in China or Mexico to have them for me. Either outsource my bowel movements, or be able to have one humongous dump in the morning, and none the rest of the day. If I could, then I would have no more washroom worries.
I like my three S's in the morning: shit, shower and shave. That way I am clean and fresh as I go forth, or fifth, seeking my fortune or fifthtune. But my bowels are moody and rebellious. "We don't wanna move now," they tell me before my shower. "We don't feel like it."
"Aw c'mon guys," I say. "We're beside a toilet now, and I can wash thoroughly afterwards."
"Nope," they say. "We're not moving now. We'll move when we feel like it."
Later in the day when I am no where near a washroom they proclaim, "Okay, we're ready to move now."
"Wait! Wait! I'm not near a washroom."
"That's your problem. We're moving."
But sometimes my capricious bowels do move before my shower. I think that all is well with the world after I leave home clean and fresh. And then an hour or so later, when I am no where near a washroom, my bowels ambush me.
"We're moving!"
"But you just moved an hour ago!" I say.
"Yup, and we're moving again."
My grandfather used to say, "It may not look like much in the toilet bowl, but it looks like a helluva lot in your pants." I agree.
So, there is no question about whether my bipolar bowels are working properly. I just wish that they would listen to me instead of making their own decisions.
On a positive note, my bowels have made me realize that I can't argue with anyone who says what I am full of.
