I leave the lights off, and glasses off. I don’t need to see to get around a house that’s familiar to me for simple things like going to the bathroom. If I’m in an unfamiliar house, I might put on my glasses and go slowly by touch so I don’t wake up my hosts.
I have a night light in the bathroom. It makes things easier.
Though sometimes my eyes aren’t adjusted well enough to see in the bathroom so I just take a shot in the dark. If I miss once, I adjust my aim and try again. If I miss again, I turn on the lights.
Excellent poem Hal Briston. The stuff about pissing on your cat’s head but being too sleepy to care was hilarious.
Once in the darkness (at cold and dismal hour)
I thought to rise, although my mood was sour
An urgency did just begin
To banish sleep from deep within
I moved the covers back, my face was dour
A maze of dirty clothes and shoes challenged my feet
As awkwardly I slipped from 'neath the sheet
I stumbled forward tripped and, well,
I clutched the dresser ere I fell
And stubbed my toe there, and it weren’t a treat
My pad, it comes equipped with slinky cat
Who likes to weave between my legs, and that
Due mostly to my sleepy state
Annoyed me, made me most irate
I briefly wished to hold a baseball bat
On task I focus, one hand on the wall
I shuffle in the darkness down the hall
The doorknob to my finger’s touch
Doth make me savor very much
The moment when the arc begins to fall
I’m lazy, true, (or so it has been said)
And maybe not OK within the head
Do I detect the cover’s weight?
My voyage in a dreaming state
While actually I’m still within my bed?
It seems to me I have attained my goal
The shape before me seems to be the bowl
But dare I let go, dare I pee,
What if this is illusory?
Bedwetter just is not my fav’rite role
At 4:30 this morn
I woke with a start.
Not because I had to pee
But for fear of a wet a fart.
Dreading the chill
of the cold wood floor,
I tiptoed my way
through the bedroom door.
Darkness not a worry
as we keep a lamp lit.
My buttocks got goosebumps
as I began to sit.
A pee was commencing
and then something more,
an eerie groan from my belly
warned I had more in store.
“Oh what had I eaten?” I pondered in gloom,
to bring me so early to this unglamourous room.
“Doesn’t matter, silly girl” said my gurgling belly.
“I get irritable when your stressed or relaxed, watching telly.”
I waited for the fallout, dread filling my soul.
I expected to spackle my freshly-scrubbed bowl.
And then just a whisper, a titter, a squeak
came forth from between my pasty-white cheeks.
Ah! False alarm! I almost cackled with glee…
It seemed I indeed, just needed to pee.
I cleaned myself up, and went back to my bed,
snuggled under my blanket, the cat purred at my head.
Drifting back softly to slumber and bliss,
I jolted awake, something definitely amiss.
This time I sprinted,
No time to waste.
I had to get to the bathroom
And quick! Post haste!
No false alarm, I was certain of that.
I sat on the toilet, and proceeded to crap.
Lava is what I thought it must be,
My ass was on fire, ringing alarms of three. [ok, I’m stretching a bit here]
And when I was done, I had more pain to endure
My soft toidy paper turned into 20-grit, I was was sure.
And so, dear friends this is how I’ve come
To tell you early in the morning of my poor, painful bum.
Damn you, IBS! Damn you to HELL!
I don’t touch the lights until I get back to the entrance to the bedroom. In the dark I can’t see whatever might be left on the floor (including the cat), nor can I judge the distance to the bed. My solution is to flip the light on for about half a second - long enough to register a path back, short enough not wake me up any further.
I usually turn the bathroom light on. As Podkayne put it, there’s some parts of the house you don’t want to be groping around. Now that I’m living in res it’s probably a better idea (not that I have to go in the middle of the night very often), because you never know when someone has left the toilet seat up.
I’m going to show this to my mom, who also has IBS. I truly sympathise with you…
No lights for me. I’ll barely peek through one eye to find my way to and from the toilet.
I don’t turn the light in my apartment. I sleep on a mat about 10 feet from the bathroom.
I don’t even turn the bathroom light on at work. It’s not like anything has moved since I was last in there.
Finally get into bed
But to get back to sleep
After such an ordeal
I have to count * sheep*.