Klosterman to toilet paper.

I was reading about Val Kilmer in Chuck Klosterman's IV. That's not the point of what I'm writing.

While reading I really really had to pee, but I really really wanted to finish the two pages left of the chapter I was on. So of course I finish reading first. Right as I closed my book and hopped to the ground off of my unreasonably huge bed, my cat's newborn six kittens all started squeaking.

It's as if they somehow knew that my glorious bathroom moment that I so well deserved was now upon me. These tiny creatures for that instant were all swimming within my mind, and agreed with everything they found.

All of this raced about so rapidly that I could not decide if I would rather pee, as I so desired moments ago, or write about my squealing infant felines. I hopped from foot to foot, doing the pee-pee dance. Suddenly I lunged over the massive creature I call bed reaching for my notebook. I snatched it up and race-walked to my bathroom.

Now you might be thinking: "Why didn't she just wait til she was done peeing to write this pointless shit down?" For reasons unknown to me, I was afraid. I truly believed that if I had peed before writing my brief yet existential experience it would all be erased. I would forget even the most obvious details of what just happened five minutes prior to the bathroom trip. It was terrifying to even imagine not having documentation of my miraculous moment with my cats. My chest pounded.

As a resolution to this dilemma, I now sit on my toilet with my notebook at hand. I have long finished peeing, but was still too afraid to leave before I finished writing. So humbly I sit, pants half down and yet to wipe, telling you about all of what you probably consider bullshit.

This may be the most significant writing moments (and moment in general) I have had to date. Or the most pointless. I've yet to decide.

..............Thank god I refilled the toilet paper earlier.