Last week I had the good fortune of a few days holiday sans kids. The first night I stayed with my friend and her family before we drove up to the Hunter.
This is something I wrote very early the next morning. Don't fret about the ending. Obviously I did not die...
This is no way should be construed as a Sydney bashing post.
I lived here for three years and I visit as often as I can. But compared to Perth, land is expensive and houses are small. Where a 3x1 in Perth may be considered modest, in the heart of Balmain it is a palace.
However none of this changes the fact that when houses are small, bathrooms no longer have the luxury of being discretely located at one end of the house, tucked behind the laundry, or half a mile down a lonely corridor.
No, here, bathrooms are quite reasonably centrally located. In this case, bang smack in the middle of the house, right off the central hall. Next to all the bedrooms.
This makes it very challenging if you are a shy toileter like me where you muffle normal bodily function noises with well-timed coughs, piles of toilet paper or angling your bum so your wee doesn't hit the loo like a water cannon.
I desperately need to pee right now.
The relentless rain in Sydney is mocking my pain but the toilet is located about a metre from my wonderful hosts' bed. I may as well climb into their bed and pee in a metal bucket.
I watched 127 Hours on the flight over here. You know, the one where the guy is hiking and falls and gets his hand stuck under a rock. He drinks his wee. Maybe I should do that.
Though the look on his face kinda indicated it was quite gross, and I'm probably not that desperate. Yet.
If I had brought Baldy with me I could use one of her nappies. People do that, like that woman astronaut who drove across the country wearing an adult diaper so she didn't have to stop to wee. But she was crazy and on her way to kill someone, I think.
Surely if I wait long enough my body will just reabsorb the wee, right? Or will I explode, right here on the fold-out sofa bed.
Farewell, fair readers.
LIFE WITH THREE KIDS: parenting is relentless... and chaos is beautiful.
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In our house the toilet is directly across from the front door, and right next to my mum's bedroom. I hate needing the toilet in the middle of the night when everyone is in bed. I'm always worried my toilet noises would make it into mum's dreams. But she reassures me she doesn't hear anything at all so that's gotta be something right?
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