For a while when I was a kid, my bedroom was at the far end of the hallway in our ranch-style house. (Our family switched bedrooms around during our time there, but this was where I slept for the largest life-scarring portion of my childhood.) Across the hall was the bathroom…
…. and then…
… at the end of the hall….
…. was the living room.
Oh, that terrible dark, vast space with its shadowy danger – so full of monsters and murderers! Why, oh, why did I have to pee so bad?!? If I had known how to curse, I would have cursed my teeny-tiny bladder and its inability to hold my Kool-Aid until morning. I’d try and run across the hallway, but become paralyzed by fear, tottering along as slow as shark chum.
The worst part was how some idiot architect thought it would be a great idea to put the light switch to the bathroom out in the hallway, costing an extra life-risking second of fumbling in the dark. No quick door slam of safety for me, no sir. That beam of light was going to spotlight me for the bloodthirsty ghouls and make easy pickings of my little Holly Hobbie-clad butt.
I should have just wet the bed.