Bathroom Discombobulation

I am perplexed. Bewildered. Almost floored, you could say.

I was sitting on the loo, doing my daily business for the second time today – but that’s not what shook me up. When I woke up, yes: I had managed to drift off on the porcelain bowl, something which seems to happen to me more and more frequently nowadays. I’m what’s now officially classed as a nodder offer. That in itself didn’t really perturb me, though, I admit, I did find myself a little distressed about my left foot – which for some reason was my only remaining body part which was apparently still sleeping.

The real reason I found myself answering my teenager’s cries of, “Are you alright Mum?” with a flustered, “No……” (which was thus grounds for my teenager to come bounding upstairs, to save the day) was that the bottom fifth of my left trouser leg was SOPPING wet. I literally could have wrung it out. Right there and then. And created a sizeable puddle.

I attempted, in my still rather sleepy state (though thankfully, my left foot was slowly awakening) to analyze the situation I found myself in:

• I felt my left trouser leg to double check it was actually sopping wet. To be honest, I completed this action several times, as I couldn’t really believe I’d actually found myself in this predicament.
• I rubbed my finger into the liquid and then had a good, proper sniff. I ascertained it was probably water, but just to make sure, I rubbed and sniffed again.
• I noted the floor had some kind of dribble of liquid on it which seemed to look clear, not yellow (phew) or even brown (double triple phew).
• I spotted I hadn’t finished drinking my tea, which had remained on the shelf while I had dozed.
• I explained all of my findings and conclusions and bewilderments to my teenager and offered them regularly to test out the evidence for themselves; including feeling or sniffing my soggy trouser leg to see just how soggy it actually was. Said teenager repeatedly refused my propositions and instead scampered off to fetch some clean and significantly dry trousers.
• Then, I stumbled on the realization that my left sock was absolutely bone dry. Despite the soppingness of my left trouser leg.
• My teenager still refused to touch the fabrics themselves. Not even the dry sock. And they answered my baffled questions with more and more laughter.

What the hell happened to me on the toilet today, during a quick somewhat sluggish number two, bolstered by a moment’s shuteye? I awoke to discover a soaked trouser leg although all taps were off, my tea was on the shelf, minding its own business and there were no drip-drips from pipes or water closets or overhead windows. My bottom appeared to have remained completely glued to the toilet seat, although my top half had begun its ‘slump forward’ wake myself up motion. Despite my one fifth of one trouser leg being absolutely sodden, no other part of me was even damp. Seriously, what the hell happened to me?

I am perplexed. Bewildered. Utterly flabbergasted, you could say.