Scheduled Departures

It's been at least 2 days since I've written about body waste, so I figured I'm overdue. In more ways than one, as it turns out...

Most mornings I wake up, start the coffeemaker, stare at said coffeemaker until its liquid gold is ready, take a tentative first sip, and immediately feel the rumblings of the Morning Movement.

Now, this is a great thing. I'm a huge fan of the restroom regularity (all alliteration today, folks). Most days I'm good for two trips to the, um, 'Water Closet'. No need for prunes, metamucil, nothing. A little caffeine and I'm good to go.

But some days (like today, dammit), I get off my schedule. Maybe I'm on the phone for awhile right after work (I can't really mix Movements and a phone conversation-both require my full attention), or I go out for happy hour or whatever. But something gets me off. And once I miss my window, all hope is lost for a return to the promised land. It's like my innards are mad at me for forgetting about our Special Time, and they decide to punish me by raising the drawbridge for awhile.

Caffeine? Nothing. Chocolate? Greasy Food? No help. Prunes? I don't think those are an immediate help—they're more like a long-term plan, right? Either way, I don't have any, and the stores around me are all closed, so they're out.

There's always the Nuclear Option, also known as Ex-Laxx. But I'm worried that's the intestinal equivalent of ripping the throttle off a train. The conductor might not be able to stop the speeding locomotive that's sure to follow.

So I guess I'll have to wait for morning, but I'm not happy about it. It's like going to bed without dinner or something; the whole night feels weird, and I'm all fidgety and kinda angry. Hope everyone else is having better luck keeping the trains running on time.