when you offer to babysit and can’t wait for your friend to leave, so that you can turn the heating up and finally get some warmth, albeit from a radiator ..
when you, for a change, don’t need to do another 24-h pee collection, but end up wishing you hadn’t thrown away the disposable 3-liter collection jar, as you get up in the middle of the night to a locked 2-sided bathroom door, the other end of which opens into the master bedroom, and you don’t want to wake up your hosts, or, which would be worse, their baby, so you walk around, hoping it will pass, but it doesn’t, and you consider walking out in your pj’s, peeing in front of the door like a stray dog, but end up using your kid’s diaper in the main entrance hall instead, hoping no one will walk by, look through the glass door. only you pee way too fast way too soon, feel the pee gushing out, down your legs, onto the oversized door mat, then pace yourself, run for another diaper, as there’s at least half as much left in your bladder, peeing real slow and steady this time, feeling it softly swell all warm up in your hands, as you deliberate how much leverage there really is, and how much a 4-year old is able to pee in a night, then quickly change back to the previous diaper, pee some more in that one, until the bladder’s all extorted. change underwear. change pj’s. no place to wash (using wet wipes doesn’t occur to you), so you dry-wipe your legs and their meeting place with a tissue, put in a menstrual pad, so as not to soil your new pair of knickers, and go back to bed, with a sigh of relief and a hint of horror ..
when you’ve liked a song for months, then finally understand the power of angels saying ‘amin’ to your words, as you’re, this time truthfully, singing ‘i’m radioactive, radioactive’ ..
when you’ve been editing patient consent forms for years, then find yourself signing one ..
when you lie awake not sleeping when you should be, and think of the newspaper article you read on polyamorous relationships that takes you back to your one try at that, and the bitter you almost starts cursing her, but you can’t bring yourself to because you believe her to be a decent, sad woman who settled for less, then start cursing him for dragging you into it all, but end up just being sorry that it ended the way it did, and that you still think of him with disappointment dripping ..
when the last guy you ever hugged with anticipation does’t want to call the girl he’s been living with for almost a year his girlfriend, because love shouldn’t be labelled, a polyamorous relationships practitioner pur sang. when you feel compelled to write him with affection in the middle of the night when you lie awake not sleeping and not cursing those you (used to) love(d) ..