Fight for the Throne

Wake up thinking there is something amiss. Something isn’t quite right. Brain a little foggy so it  doesn’t quite make sense, you just know something is off.

Then it hits you. You need to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible. Only now you realize you are tangled in a sheet and blankets. Yes, damn it, two. A lighter one between the sheet and the ginormous comforter, but the lighter one is wrapped around one of your shins and the sheet around the other and you are struggling to throw off the ginormous comforter to get to the two shackles that are restraining you from putting feet to floor.

Then the whollop of the comforter hits you back in the face as your partner in sleep exits as quickly as you so intended and dashes to the bathroom with the speed you wished was you. The door slams shut but you can still hear through the closed door the sounds of The Ick.

With a sad sigh you slow your maneuvering down to try to prolong your will power to hold within that which is striving to exit your body in a most unladylike fashion. Just as you remove your restraints and are freed from the sheets, the door to the bathroom across the hall from the bedroom door in front of you opens.

Not a second too soon you dash to the now empty throne, shoving your spouse quickly out of the way not caring if you sent your beloved tumbling backwards into the tub/shower. And so the jockeying for the porcelain reign begins.

Well, it wasn’t exactly like that. We were blessed with good timing for a couple of days, you could say we ruled in time with one another, thankfully. Though there were a few close calls.  


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