I really need to post some of our Bermuda pictures, but they are all on Tyler's computer and he, unlike me, has to leave the house to go to work and he takes his computer with him. The nerve! So, instead of pictures of pink sand beaches and tales of snorkeling and collecting sea glass in island bliss, you get random anecdotes about my 14 sister. Who just happens to be completely darling (when she chooses to) and totally OCD (she can't help that part, I guess).
Mom and I were out running many errands yesterday, one of which was picking Tasha up from school. She got in the car and promptly told Mom that she had to drive very fast because her bladder was going to explode. Apparently she has a fear of public bathrooms and refuses to use them and instead suffers for hours at school. Why? I don't get it. (Maybe it was the time that the two of us walked into the men's room at Wingers. I was in the one stall and she was waiting her turn when a man walked in. She was pretty dang embarrassed. I hid in the stall, waiting until he was gone to make my escape, but another man walked in and I was still stuck in there and I eventually made it out, but not without a very awkward conversation at the sink. Maybe I understand her issue a little bit, although I got right back on the proverbial horse and use the bathroom at Harmon's that very same night!) Anyway, Tasha was yelling at the red lights and was pretty miserable. Unfortunately for her, Mom and I still had to stop at the craft store before we could consider our errands complete. I told her that they had a bathroom that she could use and that there was a 90% chance that she would live to tell about it. As we entered the store, I pointed her in the right direction and wished her the best of luck.
Many minutes later I ran into her near the yarn department, where she was playing with a purple bouncy ball with fringe all over it. I inquired after the condition of her bladder and she told me that she walked into the bathroom and right back out. She just couldn't do it. And that her bladder was really not too pleased with her. I laughed. Eventually we found Mom and were about ready to check out. Tasha really, really, really wanted us to buy the ball- now named Martha- for her and it was then that we spotted an opportunity for growth. (see: bribery) We told her that she could have the ball if she used the bathroom, and that there was no other way that she could get that ball. One fleeting look of terror crossed her face, then she looked at Martha and gave her (it?) a squeeze, and she marched off, determined. Mom had to go with her to guard the door to make sure that she would have total and complete privacy, but she did it. I am so proud!
So, for the bargain price of $7.99 (minus 40% because we had a coupon) Tasha has conquered a corner of her OCD-ness. Forget years of counseling and expensive medications- Tasha can use a public restroom because of a bouncy ball.
