How does one live life?
So, to recapitulate; boring day yesterday. First day I didn't really feel like writing something, hence the short peace that can easily be dismissed as a figment of my mental state on that particular day.
After I wrote it, I decided to NOT go to sleep. I didn't feel sleepy at all, so I was like: "Why not? At least this way I can have breakfast on a decent hour."
Well, not really. I kinda stayed holed up in my room till 2 PM. Saw my brother again, since three days now I believe? Which, without a doubt in my mind, must seem weird to outsiders, since we still live in the same house.
Not that I want to avoid him. I got a good relationship with my brother.
Sooooo... I stayed up. At about 9 AM my stomach was throwing a fit. I needed to go to the toilet, fast! Be warned, this next part contains biological terms that some readers may experience as offensive and distasteful. Or perhaps you're getting turned on while reading it? I mean, this is a judge-free zone here, mate. Whatever floats your boat, ya know...
Alright, deviating a bit. So, biological term called 'bowel movement'.
While we're at it, might as well call this: OPERATION BOWEL MOVEMENT.
I know. Juicy right? Downhill folks, this diary has it. This lexicon of daily emotions has been overshadowed in the blink of an eye by something as common as....bowel movement. Brains. They work in mysterious ways, do they not?
Sooooo... there I was, sitting in my room, 2nd floor, and my mind was plagued by questions I never considered asking myself. To s*** or not to s***? Alright, all is well, I've said it! It's out before I knew it! Stronger than myself! No lame pun intended!
See, the root of this dilemma was the fact that the bathroom, which contained the *cough* dropzone, was a floor below me. Now before you all go: "God, what a lazy twat!", hear me out.
It just so happens that my mother's bedroom is right NEXT to the toilet. Yeah, go figure. The architect of this place must've been like: "Oh yeah, I'm gonna design this floor in just the right way so that when you go to the toilet, you could pass gas and hear it throughout the whole house!"
To make matters worse, my mother's boyfriend was sleeping in that room as well. YEAH! INDEED! FEEL THE PAIN I SUFFERED!
So there I was, in my room, pondering about different tactics and combat engages. Was this going to be a Search-and-Destroy mission? Or did it require Capture-the-Flag strategies? I mean, I have nearly perfected the art of having a quiet bowel movement! But there is always that factor you do not take into consideration. I had movements that hit the water with such grace it could make Da Vinci weep. But then again ... Yeah, for the sake of the integrity of any further diary entries and respect for the readers, I will not go into much detail. I CARE!
Eventually, I decided to hold out ... like Defend-the-Hill. Too many FPS-references? I figured this option was better, for the other one might mean a rude wake-up call and an awkward meeting in the hallway, standing face to face with another adult, both knowing I just woke someone with nothing but... I don't have such a strong pokerface...
So, voila. In view a humble... NO! I listened to that V for Vendetta quote for quite a while now, I apologize.
Voila, operation bowel movement was put on hold. Also, this entry was devoid of any proper synonym for the word 'bowel movement" because I simply do not know any other than s*** and c*** and other colorful things.. Let us conclude that this little escapade has gone far enough.
These are the kind of questions that bug me. Because I am a socially awkward beaver!