The Miserable Exploding Bladder Incident and other senior citizen news.

Howdy, people. It’s 5:45 Wednesday morning and I’m sitting bolt upright at my desk still somewhat freaked-out by a bad event yesterday evening before Sam came home from work. I had a nice nap in bed from 4:30 to 7:45 p.m., and when I woke up I realized I had to pee. Let me phrase this differently for emphasis: I THOUGHT MY BLADDER WAS GOING TO EXPLODE. So I put on my robe, slide into my slippers, shuffle into the master bathroom and BLAMMO, I can’t make it to the toilet and I can’t even make it into the goddamn shower. So I kick my slippers across the room — quite an achievement for a handicapped old broad with a cane — and just let go. All over the floor. Thank God for the gigantic decorative bath towel attractively draped across the side of the tub! I covered my puddle, sat down on a bench and tried to remember when the hell did I turn into such a big, helpless baby. (I’m still working on it.)