It Is What It Is

I feel moved to enter the idiom ‘It is what it is’ at some point within today’s narrative. As this journal is a literary riff, only time will tell whether yours truly fulfils that aspiration. Although, as the oft used saying is actually present in the first sentence of this narrative, I guess by definition one could argue I’ve succeeded with that lexicological goal.

Footnote – Although to be clear, I’m not wanting to achieve inclusion of those words via the back door – If indeed idioms use doors, which is unlikely.

Due to an ongoing revamp of the upstairs bathroom, the previous two nights have seen me without lavatory facilities on the upper floor of chez Strachan. Consequently, at around 3am, when my middle-aged bladder screams it’s reached capacity, I’ve to trek downstairs, through the lounge and kitchen to utilise the downstairs bathroom….. Which to be quite frank is a real pain in the ass….. Well, ache I the bladder to be more precise.

Some may feel moved to proffer “What’s the big deal, Gary?…. After all, it’s only six decades since most of our forebears, through lack of indoor plumbing, were required to use outdoor toilet facilities. A situation necessitating the use of a chamber pot for an overnight pee.”

An observation which to some extent makes me ashamed of being such a lavatorial snowflake. However, in the absence of a chamber pot, I’d argue my circumstances mean, not only have I gotta get my ass outta bed, I’ve little option to trail downstairs to pass water. Therefore, to some extent I’m suffering greater inconvenience (pardon the pun) that my forebears from three generations past.

My well-meaning accusers may posit I could simply purchase a chamber pot, or perhaps negate the necessity to pee at 3am by not drinking a pint of water prior to retiring to bed on an evening.

To be honest, as I’ve not researched a solution to this conundrum, I’ve not idea where I’d procure a guzunder (chamber pot); although I guess Amazon would be as good a starting place as anywhere. After all, a company who can supply you with products such as a ferret with a limp (don’t ask!!) should have little problem locating a potty.

That being said, even if I managed to procure the aforementioned chamber pot, by the time it arrived my new bathroom would be fitted. Consequently, I’d no longer require a bedpan – The jerry being confined to a life as a plant pot holder, where it’d spend its days as a container for a long line of house shrubs which’d perish from a lack of watering….. I’m not called the West Yorkshire Aspidistra Murder for nothing!

I’m resolved not to utilise a bucket as a makeshift overnight toilet. An option that’d make my already restricted and mentally capricious life seem even worse. My morning slopping out making me feel as though I’d been incarcerated in HMP Armley.

So I guess, I’ll just have to live with the lavatorial logistics as they stand until the end of the week. Maybe cut back on the pre-bed pint of water….. Oh, and the purely medicinal eventide glasses of Pinot Grigio.

After all, it is what it is!……. Boom!

Potty Time!

Leave a Reply