Drink more water during the day and less at night.
That's what it says in the forwarded email. The age of e-mail meant that people write a whole lot less these days. Most of the time. they are forwarding forwarded messages written by unknown characters some time in the indeterminable past.
But we're talking about water.
Women should drink at least 3 liters of water daily while men should drink about 3.5 liters.It didn't explain why you should drink less water at night. You don't need a degree in rocket science to surmise that all that water in the belly is bound to interrupt your sleep.
As it did mine.
I have had all sorts of horrid nightmares about toilets, nasty ones, ghastly and unforgettable ones ...
In the latest "toilet incident", I was holidaying in Kuching and putting up at a friend's place. Pat (not her real name) had been a dear friend of mine, so dear that when it was time to leave, she did all my packing. And there was a lot to pack. Instant noodles, tissue boxes still inside their huge plastic bags were strewn all over the room I occupied. (It was not clear why I was in Kuching to purchase instant noodles and tissue boxes so we'll just blame that on the peculiarities of the dream master.)
Pat was struggling with the packing. She looked worried for my flight is due and she had to drive me to the airport. As always, it was at inopportune moments like this that I needed to go. So I went.
Pat's toilet is situated way back at the left hand corner of the house. It was one of those portable types and it was painted pink. Once inside, all you see is a gaping hole on the floor. The longer you contemplated this hole, the bigger it grew. As I gaped incredulously at the predicament now facing me, the floor started to slant. And my feet started looking like a muesli bar. At this point, I usually get the message, I snapped myself out of my sleep, (yes, you can do that.) walked to the bathroom and the rest, as they say ... is history.
In the latest "toilet incident", I was holidaying in Kuching and putting up at a friend's place. Pat (not her real name) had been a dear friend of mine, so dear that when it was time to leave, she did all my packing. And there was a lot to pack. Instant noodles, tissue boxes still inside their huge plastic bags were strewn all over the room I occupied. (It was not clear why I was in Kuching to purchase instant noodles and tissue boxes so we'll just blame that on the peculiarities of the dream master.)
Pat was struggling with the packing. She looked worried for my flight is due and she had to drive me to the airport. As always, it was at inopportune moments like this that I needed to go. So I went.
Pat's toilet is situated way back at the left hand corner of the house. It was one of those portable types and it was painted pink. Once inside, all you see is a gaping hole on the floor. The longer you contemplated this hole, the bigger it grew. As I gaped incredulously at the predicament now facing me, the floor started to slant. And my feet started looking like a muesli bar. At this point, I usually get the message, I snapped myself out of my sleep, (yes, you can do that.) walked to the bathroom and the rest, as they say ... is history.
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