Me And My Bladder

If you saw me in the corridor of a certain medical building in Encino yesterday, schlepping this witch's caldron, you might've thought to yourself, "Isn't it a little early for Halloween?" Or perhaps your observation might've been crueler, as in, "Isn't the short gal a little old to be trick or tricking?" The answer to both questions: "How dare you!" In the exclusive SJG neighborhood, Halloween is already starting, what with the gravestones and skeletons scattered on the nearly-dead lawns. My own brother is planning a Haunted Hillbilly Extravaganza on an hourly basis. In his mind, it's already Halloween. He's just waiting for the rest of us to catch up. But back to the cauldron and its awkwardly-attached bathroom key. Most offices tie a pretty ribbon or lanyard to the bathroom key. But who cares when you have to tinkle mid-way through a very lengthy eye-measuring ordeal. At some point between non-stop commands of "don't blink, don't blink, don't move," cauldron or user-friendly key chain, you're gonna need to go. In this particular moment, it really was about...

Me and my bladder
Strolling down the corridor
Me and my bladder
Oy, the toilet's busted on this floor

My first attempt to tinkle went poorly. I saw the sign on the door, "Sorry, witches, go to another floor. Maybe 5, maybe 9." I glanced at the men's door and figured, eff it, I'm going in. This was a mistake. To the man I interrupted, the SJG apologizes, profusely. At the time, all I said was, "Oops."

I returned to the eye doctor's office, put the cauldron back on the counter, and decided, bravely, "I'll hold it." And I did. Until I couldn't anymore. "Which floor has the working toilet?" I asked the nice gal who signs you in. "Oh, either the one above or below." I went to 8. The key didn't work. I went to 6. No go. In the elevator, I collected an elderly gal from the same office in search of the same relief. We went back to 7 and read the sign on the door. "Maybe 5, maybe 9." "Let's try 5," I said. The cauldron worked. In we went. And then, back to the doctor, to pay for the new cataract-free lenses they're going to insert into my eyes in the coming weeks. Don't be jealous. Some witches have all the luck.