Just about right after I'd finished writing this I put down the laptop and proceeded to schooch myself down so I could fall asleep. That was about an hour and a half ago. I spent that hour in the shower and trying to get the sheet off the bed. Here's what happened.

This Friday I went down to Shasta College to speak to Ron Marley's (call 'im Chief) fire class. During the Q&A, one of the young hero's asked me "How do you know when you need to go to the bathroom, since you can't feel anything?" I kinda dodged the question, not wanting to tell of the glove and index finger mission every morning, and said "Well, once a day you sit and wish." You see, I don't have any idea when I have to 'go'.
So anyway, as I schooched down, I smelled something Bad. I moved over to the side, and sure enough, there's a skid mark on the sheey. Sigh. So, I flopped into the chair to go into the bathroom and put on a glove, in order totake care of the business I oviousely needed to empty. I got in there, hopped up onto my throne, and worked my chone's down. Yup, they were full of it, as an added bonus, and it got all over my thighs and some flopped onto the floor. Wonderful. Without any stimulation I dropped the Biggest Log Ever, which by itself managed to clog the high speed "made for disabled folks" throne. I manage to clog that bastard about every three days. The old toilet never had that problem, but we don't have that one anymore, so I just get to use the plunger alot. Sigh. Made me happy I can't feel anything, becaue I surely tore something squeezing that bad boy out.
So I get myself emptied, and as they say, there's shit everywhere. So I hop back into teh chair with the intention of getting in the shower and washing myself off, only managing to drag one foot through the mess on the floor. Clean off the toilet seat, because of cource it's covered, and the floor. I get what I can off my foot. In the process of getting into the shower, I manage to leave a big 'ol pile of soft serve on the chair. Guess I wasn't done after all. I strip the cover off my cusion, toss it in a convienent bucket, and wash the cusion. Manage to extract my feet from the chone's getting more on them than on my feet. Score. Drop them in the bucket.
So I proceed to wash myself... For all you AB's out there, imagine sitting on the thing you're trying to wash. Sounds great huh? How do you do it? Creative leaning. I wash and I wash and I wash... and eventually the water runs clear. Meanwhile, I've been flushing the toilet about every 5 minutes trying to get the mess to go down, even plunging intermittantly.
I get done and out of the shower, plunge the toilet for about 10 minutes, no joy. It's stuck tighter than a ferret in a drainpipe. I leave it to fester till tomorrow, and roll back to bed. I go through the dickdance of getting the sheet off the bed... and sure enough, the evidence has soaked through in one spot. I can't really do anything about it but scrub it with some wet-wipes and put a bunch of towells over it so I don't re-contaminate myself.

So that's the story. Makes you wonder why I'm most of the time scared of meeting 'That Girl' huh? Can you imagine that one? So now you know why I'm pissed off most of the time. I try not to show it... "Oh I'm doing Great"... Mostly because you don't need to know of all the little bullshit nightmares I get to deal with every freakin' waking moment.