I don’t know what I have against my body.
And no, that’s not a country-western song.
No, I want to know why I wait until the last possible moment before I pay attention to its needs.
Consider my usual delay in using the facilities at work. I’m just going to do this one more thing, just this one more thing – ooh, wait, there’s the phone. And what? You need a meeting? OK, I can do that, too.
Next thing you know, something that hasn’t happened since I was but a child is imminent and it’s all I can do to keep from wetting myself.
I blame my family, of course.
Ever take a road trip with my Dad? The object, other than topping the last trip’s mileage, is to have no stops between departure and arrival. You what? You need to use the bathroom? Didn’t you use the bathroom this morning? We’re making great time here, can’t you wait until the hotel? We should be there by the time the sun sets…
If I were you, I wouldn’t get the Big Gulp before you leave with my Dad.
I have the same problem with eating.
Now, those who know me know that I am a big fan of eating. Having been raised by people who practice the from-scratch method of cooking, it’s only right that I should be something of a snob regarding food. This is not to say that I don’t eat fast food or eat meals that came out of a box, but given my druthers, I’d much prefer that the food come hot off the stove.
Preferably right after someone else has prepared it.
So why is it late afternoon and I haven’t eaten yet?
Driven by obligation: Must fold clothes. Must vacuum. Must pry kitty from top of door frame. Must check Facebook one more time…
So why don’t I just stop what I’m doing and have a little something to eat?
Dagnab it! I swear. I keep this up, and I’m telling.
I’m not kidding this time.
I’ve had it with me.
Winter mornings and pottery
3 hours ago