If You See a Toilet in Your Dream, Don’t Sit on That !!

Good day, body!

I'd appreciate it if you would quit playing mind games with me. Literally. Simply put, STOP.

I go above and above for you. I make sure you eat enough of low-carb vegetables, I pluck the chin hairs you've decided to give me at 37, and I'm learning what Kegels are.

Don't judge me too severely since I acknowledge I could do a better job of eating fruit and cleaning my teeth. Let me sleep without any mind-f*ckery, at the very least.

Last night, I was on the verge of believing your nonsense. I'd like to remind you that this is the second time you've tried to pull the wool over my eyes this week. So far, the result is:

Your Mind Games: 0 — Me: 2

I'm not going to fall for your tricks. You enticed me with another incredible dream last night. It had nothing to do with my infatuation Daniel Craig or Fiji's flamingo beaches. Instead, you enticed me to an ice cream truck like a sugar-addicted child.

You're shrugging your shoulders, I see. “What did I do?” you might wonder.

You threw a toilet at me! You had the courage to do it after a restful night's sleep of eight hours. Hook. Line. Sinker. THE BATHROOM.

In my dream, the toilet stood in front of me with its smooth white porcelain surface, open seat, and pristine blue Scrubbing Bubbles lavender-scented water the first time I saw it.

It appeared to be a lovely chilly seat just ready for my behind to be slid onto it. Soon after, my intuition kicked in and I said, "Oh, hell no!" This is a technique I'm familiar with.”

I dragged myself out of bed and dashed to the restroom. You not only irritated me by forcing me to leave my warm bed, but you also did it at 3 a.m. You're welcome, jerk.

You repeated the process two days later, but this time you went one step farther. You got me to take off my comfy sweatpants, my satin underwear, and squat on my imagined toilet this time. I recall the sensation of my bladder emptying, as if I had just completed a ten-hour automobile journey with no stops.

I yanked open my eyes, sat up in my bed, threw off the blankets, and made a mental note not to repeat the "wet the bed" episode from my youth. I didn't, much to my relief. However, you have now been added to my list of terrible buddies.

I can't believe you would do such a thing to me! Didn't I tell you previously that I'm studying about Kegels for you? I'd like to be able to sneeze once without dribbling in my trousers, and I'd also like to be able to go to the bathroom without having to wake up every night.

The cruelest thing you've done to me is flash a toilet in front of me two to three hours before my alarm goes off. Indeed, that ranks with the time I believed I won a $1,000 BINGO but didn't because my deaf hearing misheard the wrong number. (Way to go, cochlea.) So, f*cking. Played.)

You'd best start treating me like a human being. Otherwise, I'll start giving you foods like stuffed cabbage and brussel sprouts, which I know you despise. Don't attempt to call my bluff on this because you know I'm a wild redhead who will do anything.

Despite your mind tricks, I'm going to take the high road with this issue and continue to treat you fairly.

Why? Because I require your services and you require mine. Although we have a love-hate relationship, we are all in this together. Let's bury the hatchet by sharing a glass of wine, signing a ceasefire, and promising to have better dreams together.