Apple Picking and the Bathroom Emergency (album title)
I've wrestled with the idea of posting this inside my head for the past day or so.
So here we go. Yesterday I wake up to find the sun shining on what appears to be a beautiful day and the wife says lets take the boys apple picking. Sure sounds good to me. So we head out around 11 and get to C.N. Smith's Farm located about 30 miles from our home about an hour later. Now wait it takes an hour to drive 30 miles? No I got lost I'm sure Mrs. Speakers would be happy to tell you all about it on
her blog:www. Imarriedanidiot/blogspot.com
The idea of picking your own apples does not sound terribly exciting but my boys get a kick out of it and to see them running around grabbing, twisting, and devouring apples is worth the price of admission.
Now comes the drama. We decided to stop for some lunch and we manage to eat up without too many "would you please eat" or "stop screaming please". However pretty much the second after we pull out of the parking lot towards home it hits me like a knife in the gut I have to go and we're not talking about the kind I do standing up.
I realize there is no way I'll make it all the way home. I look over at my wife as she is behind the wheel and tell her we need to stop and explain the issue. She promply responds, Ok how about this coffee shop? No! The pain is getting bad I'm having images of the bathroom scene in Trainspotting and then suddenly there is an old gas station and I yell pull over. Before we even park I'm out and I ask the attendant if they have a bathroom. He directs me to one of the dirtiest bathrooms I've ever been in. At this point I could care less but I notice there's no doornob on the door nevermind a lock. Just my luck. There's nothing I can do this is an emergency. Once I've taken care of the expulsion I notice that this bathroom has no toilet paper, oh shit this is not happening. I look over at the paper towel dispenser it's completely empty. It's like that split second that your car door is about to shut with the locks down and the keys inside. I look down at my feet and what do I see but a pair of nice white socks on my feet. Socks it is. I'm already laughing by the time I exit the bathroom and climb back into the car with my waiting family. I expected my wife to notice but she didn't. I have a huge smile on my face for some demented reason I have to tell her. Within seconds she's laughing and telling the boys, everyone has a good laugh at my expense. Just then I feel something in my shorts pocket. I reach in and pull out about 5 or 6 tissues that I had put in there hours earlier for runny noses.
The moral of this story: Always check your pockets before you wipe your butt with your socks.