There are moments when one should just shut their mouth, stop typing and keep to themselves. This is one of these moments. But, we all know I am not the modest type. So here begins the tale of a computer, a predicament and a poop.
These last few days have been difficult. Whether it has been stress, that damn urinary tract infection back again or the blasted stomach flu that everyone seems to be catching, I can’t quite be sure. The point is my usually strong as a boulder stomach has been on the fritz.
I woke up this morning feeling alive! My eyes bright and ready to take on the world. While pouring myself a lovely Cup’O’Joe I looked forward to surfing the web (Facebook) as I’ve been too sick as of late to really appreciate my second love of social media.
I hunker down at my computer, and get extremely involved in what’s happening with my fellow Facebookers. I am particularly into viewing all of the wondrous Christmas decorating that people have been plastering up on their walls so show the world how awesome they are at garnishing for the holidays when I feel a rumble deep within me.
I ignore it.
I continue on with my trolling. I am now reading an article on the downfalls of day-drinking when I receive such a gut wrenching rolling in the pit of my stomach, the outer most part of my brain is screaming at me to go and use the lavatory.
I ignore that too.
Moving forward I find myself once again silently mocking all of the ridiculous Selfies I encounter spewed all over my newsfeed. This is when it happens.
Maybe it was Karma getting me back for making fun of the Selfies. Maybe I shouldn’t have ate that Spicy Jambalaya last night…Maybe, just maybe I should have listened to my internal voice only moments before telling me to go sit on the can.
It wasn’t even as though time stood still…I’m almost positive that it did. (If you happened to feel a glitch in the space-time continuum this morning at around 6:30am that was me…Sharting myself.
My inner dialog reeled, as the realization of what I had done came shooting forth from my derrière. I had thought it was only a fart and as no one was around I was ready to let it flow freely…I was wrong, oh so very wrong.
What would my husband think? How much tormenting could I take from my brother Dustin over this?
And finally, the consciousness that I could never EVER get angry at my children for shitting themselves again, came crashing into my mind.