Now that the polar vortex has broken I’ve got a chill I can’t seem to shake. My insides feel like they’re constantly shivering even though I’m fully-clothed under a warm blanket with a tiny, furry space heater curled next to me. In 159 words I’m going to sink into a hot bath and then hit the sheets. I’m zonked.
Yesterday’s furnace-anxiety was replaced by pee-anxiety. It seems Mr. Walter Hobbs is part camel. Ben took him out last night before he left around 8 p.m. and then Walter refused to pee again until 4 o’clock this afternoon. That’s what? NINETEEN HOURS without peeing. I took Walter outside about four times from 8 a.m. until noon, and he refused to go. He refused to take more than two steps outside the front door. He was having none of this polar-vortex bullshit.
I was, of course, worried. I searched my house for pee puddles and found nothing. This was a kind of bladder-holding feat I didn’t think was possible. Apparently, it is. My brother-in-law said Walter did the same thing yesterday.
I wish I had that dog’s bladder. I think I peed nineteen* times from 8 p.m. last night to 4 o’clock this afternoon.
*only a slight exaggeration.