That Feeling

That feeling when you wake up in a holiday cottage and realise that you really, really, really need to pee but there’s someone already in the only toilet in the house and so you’re walking through the place looking at various cups, bottles and vases wondering if they’re big enough and if you could smuggle them into the toilet afterwards to wash them out and return them to their place without anyone noticing and then you think of the kitchen sink and whether the plug hole will still smell if you flush it through very thoroughly with hot, soapy water and then the thought of the hot water flowing makes the feeling in your bladder intensify and so you look desperately out of the window into the back garden and spend some time examining shrubbery and bushes and calculating angles at which the neighbours would be able see over the fence and then you decide to write this to distract yourself from thinking about what’s going on down below and then, when you reach a state of utter desperation, the shower stops and you realise that salvation is seconds away only to realise that that squeaking sound means that the person in there has decided to clear the water from the walls of the shower and the time it takes after that means that they are now drying the shower and the floor very thoroughly with a fluffy cloth and just as you reach the far end of panic fear that your muscles will either betray you or your bladder will explode inside you from the pressure, the door to the toilet opens and … ‘scuse.

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