The reabsorption process

We had just been out to dinner and drank a gallon of lemon water but because it is so dang hot outside, the body quickly absorbs it. Feeling sated and believing the evening is over, the decision to wait to use any "facilities" is pushed to the back of the mind and can wait until arriving back to the homestead 5 miles away.

  On the way home, there is the favored shopping store, declaring marvelous sales, and savings and my date, Mr. Man, suggests we stop there . Disbelieving he has even suggested this date add on, I take him up on it before he changes his mind , and also wondering what the catch is. . . he abhors home décor stores and floral arrangements.

Happily shopping and pushing my empty cart, looking very hard down every aisle to find something to  fill it. Nothing. Then I discover a 90% off aisle and spot the perfect accent. A must have. How inconvenient that now I need to use the bathroom!  No problem. This store has a lovely one and I head that way, only to find the entry to the hallway where its located barricaded with a sign that prohibits passage due to some sort of water problem and cleanup is in progress.

Not alone in the quest for the bathroom, there is a general milling around the 3 foot high barricade and signage with mumblings of varied desperations and concerns. I returned to the sale aisle to basket my purchases, and become determined to absorb my bladder contents. Mr. Man  also bumps into  the barricade,  finding need of the men's room. He reports back to me that the store is closing in 7 minutes and it's doubtful the barricade to the restrooms will be removed. There's no time to make my purchase and use the restroom. I double up the reabsorption process. Where has Mr. Man gone?  We need to check out and get home ASAP. He's getting good at the disappearing act.

  I believe he led the whoop and leaps over the barricade. It began with him and then another and then another, channeling their inner track  star and become hurdlers with a mission. Crying children are held up in the face of the store manager so the barricade will be slid aside and allow the people access to the restrooms. The managers' grim faces decide to remove it before somebody jumps over and falls, causing extensive paper work and delay in closing the store and going home!  Dang the agility of the desperate!
  Standing in line, determined to win my own bladder battle, Mr. Man reappears, smug and happy that he has led the barricade revolt and gained access to the Men's room, which is also doubling as a women's room.  "The barricade is now removed". Too late for me. I've made my choice and I'm not leaving without my super deals.
 . The store shuts off its lights, locks it doors and firmly pushes us to exit--- permanently.
  In the car, Mr. Man suggests that we go to a concert in the park, 5 miles in the opposite direction of home. Now that he has taken care of his  "business" he's feeling generous to extend the date into a late evening.  MY teeth are floating. I'm doubtful I can even make it to the house. A concert? Forget it!
Made it home just in time. Which just proves. . .  there is no place like home!