Panic Room

This week, the water main to my apartment was shut off, so I needed to ask GG if I could use his shower at his house. On my way there, I had this sudden urge to use the commode - and not in a pretty way.

I ran into the house - not even noticing the sprawled clothing and empty food dishes throughout his living room. I made it. Whew.

Wait.

No toilet paper? My heart starts to race.
Be calm. I'm sure there is some tp under the sink - this is 5 feet away - unreachable from my current vulnerable position.

I shake. I squeeze. I sprint knock-kneed to the cupboard...frantically searching in a 3 foot space like it was a 20 foot closet. I skooch back to my position on the john.

I'm in a rage. I'm stuck. This is the most disusting thing that has ever happened to me. Here we go again.

Shake. Squeeze. I sprint to my purse - in the living room - completely naked this time. I sprint back. I dial my boyfriend. Surely there is some in this house.

"TELL ME YOU HAVE SOME FUCKING TOILET PAPER", I growl.

"Sorry, honey, I JUST ran out." *Blink blink* *Blink blink* I'm holding back tears. "Just get some from Stephen's room (his roommate)" I hang up without responding to him at all.

Shake. Squeeze. This time, the journey seems a mile - through hills of clothes. Through dusty dirty floors. Oops. Tinkle drops. Oops. More Tinkle spray.

I see the tp roll in the most disgusting bathroom I have ever seen. I grab some paper - and rather than sit on the john in front of me to finish my business - I run back to my sanctuary.

Relieved. Clean. Giggling to myself. I've left **** Tinkle behind - and prolly a little chocolate shavings. Serves him right.