Trapped in the closet

Today, one of the highlights, other than the phone ringing several times at 4:30am saying they need me at 5:30am instead of the route I was previously assigned to which started at 9:00am was being three stops from finishing the newly assigned route under slept and under enthused and being hit with the sudden and very very very urget urge to pee. Now I don't know about ya'll but when I have to go (ahem! small bladder syndrome is the not the ideal condition for this job) there is little else I can think about, let alone do. So, being the slow moving quick thinker that I am I dig through the recycle can and look for a container of which no one has ever put their mouth to, preferably one with a wide mouth that requires very little aim precision because at this point I am shaking. Salvation turns out to be an old parmesean cheese shake 'em jar. I locked my self in the janitors closet, removed the nasty ass gloves and removed the issue my body was having with my brain. Feeling proud like never before I slink out of the closet cursing the metaphor with the warm jar tucked under my arm getting warmer.

There was a time a few weeks ago when I had to pee so bad, very similar situation as above but this time I was inside a nice building that was built shortly after the earth quake (huge wood plank floors), when I went searching for my urinal aide I was thinking jar, juice bottle, plastic bag.... what I found was a blender. Using the plastic carafe, hiding in the dark corner of this classic building the feeling of pride mixed with elation was quickly "pissed on" by the sudden and disturbing discovery that the carafe was being tossed out for a reason, it no longer held liquid. Thankfully there is much worse to touch my boots than my own urine. Now all I need is for Madonna to drink it in the shower.