NATURE OR NURTURE?

Okay, so TODAY is Veteran's Day! Read yesterday's post which is much more meaningful today. Geez. I knew something was up this morning when there were no kids screaming on the schoolyard at 7:30 a.m. - they are my snooze button. But they weren't there so I overslept until eight, but I still got in my work out and made a healthy lunch to bring to work. I am however, wearing no underwear or stockings because I ran out of time when I was getting dressed.

Oh well.

My plans for last night cancelled at the last minute, thank GOD!, and so I decided to hit Trader Joe's and the market. Two places I've been meaning to get to since last week, but I've been busy. And lazy. And everytime I thought about stopping on my way home from wherever I was, something I can do because the Ralphs by my house is open 24 hours, I always had to pee. I drink about 3 - 5 liters of water a day so I pretty much always have to pee and I have to carefully plan my intinerary. For instance I always pee before I leave work at the end of the day because at the end of the 35-45 minute drive home I'm going to have to go again. And last night was no different. By the time I got to Trader Joe's I knew I had to go, but I was just picking up a few things and I'm a very efficient shopper so I was in and out in less than 20 minutes.

Once back in the car I briefly considered stopping by home and dropping off the frozen brocoli, BBQ Teriyaki chicken and brown rice, that were not on my list, but that I just had to get after tasting this delicious combo at the sample counter, but I thought, "No, you can run in and out of Ralphs, why bother with an extra step." So I quickly dashed into Ralphs, which wasn't at all crowded considering it was after work time, and picked up everything I needed - in and out - in less than half an hour. It was now an hour and a half since I'd left work and wetting my pants was becoming a definite possibility, but I live three blocks from the market and I figured I could make it.

For some reason I slowed down at this point, all the while acutely aware that my bladder was about to burst, I sloooooowly and methodically placed the groceries in my trunk, unlocked the door, sat down and put on my seat belt before I even started the car. Then I drove those three blocks very carefully, with proper use of the turn signals and everything. No one observing me would ever have guessed that I was a woman on the verge.

When I got home, I unloaded the groceries from the trunk and got my gym bag out of the front seat and then I backed the car into the tiny garage perfectly. As I closed and locked the door I started to do the potty dance, I was practically having an out of body experience. I shut the garage door and reached the point of no return. Leaving everything on the ground I ran full speed into the house and just barely made it to the bathroom.

And once my vision cleared and my brain function returned to normal I started to giggle because I remembered back when I was a kid, my dad used to do the same thing. We would hear him coming from down the street, the engine roaring, although he always turned it off and coasted up the driveway. He would slam on the parking break, hurl his body from the car and hit the front door going full speed (we never locked our front door when we were home - lucky for him). He'd leave the door open and run into the bathroom where he'd give a huge sigh of relief at having made it.

We used to tease him mercilessly about always waiting till the last minute.

But here I am doing the same thing and when I think about it I've done it my whole life. I've always thought that it was just due to extreme laziness on my part. Going to the bathroom is a hassle until you really have to go and then it becomes a priority, but if I'm busy I don't want to stop and go. I do the same thing when it comes to putting gas in the car. I can see that it's down near empty but I just can't be bothered to stop. I always try to get those last few miles in.

I should ask my dad if he does the same thing. Maybe I'm not lazy. Maybe it's genetic?