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So today I f***ed up.
I was lying in the bathtub like a Roman emperor after leg day, completely broken from the gym. The warm water was hugging me like my mother never did, and I had my face wash on- the “don’t open your eyes or you’ll go blind” type.
Now here’s the problem: nature called. Not politely. Not a gentle knock. This was a SWAT team raid level of urgency.
Option A: Stand up, stumble half-blind like a foaming raccoon, dripping water everywhere, and somehow make it to the toilet without breaking my neck. Option B: Embrace my inner caveman instincts.
Reader, I chose survival.
The moment was pure bliss. I’m not proud, but I swear, that stream felt like 400 years of ancestral pain leaving my body. Somewhere, my great-great-grandfather nodded in approval.
And here’s the kicker- once the deed was done, I realized I had just joined the secret society of “bathtub pee-ers.” A club no one admits they’re part of, but deep down, humanity knows.
Do I regret it? Not entirely… but now I know the next time I step into that bathtub, I’ll be marinating not just in water, but in the ghost of my own poor decisions.
TL;DR: Had face wash on, too tired from gym to move, peed in the bathtub, felt godlike relief, instantly regretted the spiritual trauma.
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