It’s the middle of the night and you’ve gotten up to pee. You’ve turned on the tap because it takes about ten minutes for the hot water to reach this bathroom—which your architect, in his wisdom, placed as far away from the water heater as possible.
Now you’re on the toilet and you realize you can’t tell if you’ve finished peeing because the only sound you can hear, of a fluid nature or otherwise, is the torrent of (probably still cold) water in the sink.
A visual check is pointless; the bowl beneath you is a yawning black pit far from the nightlight’s feeble glow. (You left the bathroom light off so you wouldn’t blind yourself and render yourself sleepless.)
What’s more, you’re not entirely sure this isn’t all a dream and you won’t shortly be running an unscheduled load of bed laundry.
And this is separate from all the usual confusing stuff that goes on during the day.
Life’s complicated.
