Taking an irritatingly long pee in the middle of the night

[JuanHamm]

Things you have an irrational hatred of

[dad]

Is this a new occurrence?

[Bammer]

For me it’s more about the frequency of middle of the night pees, not the length of any given pee.

[doug rr]

I'm a 1am to 3am pee guy...they aren't long though just irritating enough to get up and then try to fall back asleep

[dad]

For me it’s more about the frequency of middle of the night pees, not the length of any given pee.

yeah, this all the way for me too.

[wease]

I’m usually only up once during the night. The last couple of nights has been around 4:45 and I just lay there afterwards waiting for the alarm to go off at 5:50.

[Bammer]

I’m usually only up once during the night. The last couple of nights has been around 4:45 and I just lay there afterwards waiting for the alarm to go off at 5:50.

Story of my life!

[Bammer]

Actually I take back what I said in the other thread, THIS is my midlife crisis.

[bodysnatcher]

I just wear Depends

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[bodysnatcher]

One of the most specific earliest memories I have as a kid when I was 3-4 years old, was the day my mom taught me how to use a telephone. There was a new robo-number in town you could call and get the time and temperature. So she used that to teach me how to dial numbers. I must have called it over 100 times that day. That night I remember sleep walking down the hallway (I must have been half conscious) to the bedroom at the end of the other end of the hall. Directly inside the door on a small table was a phone, and in my half-sleep I whizzed all over it.