We thought we were off to a good morning. It started out normal, I woke up to Mr. DinDin Duree on my lap and Jason snoring next to me. I threw my gimp arm at his chest and repeatedly yelled, “Babe!” until he got up. He went out for his three C’s: coffee, cigarette, and cereal, with Mr. DinDin Duree following behind. Upon his return nature was calling and I had to release the morning fluids. Now we have a code for the different levels of urine urgency. DEFCON one through five. We never use one or two so we don’t quite know their level of urgency. Three is I have to pee, four is move now or there will be a mess, and 5 is sweet release. So this morning was unlike any other morning where I was in bed at a level three and when I was upright in a chair gravity put me at a four point five. I started my way to the hallway, when suddenly I felt DEFCON five and the floodgates had opened. It was Niagara falls down my thigh, over my calf support, the golden river flowed over my foot rest and into a steaming pool of pee. Jason yelled for me down the hallway, “You comin‘?” I waited a few seconds before breaking the news that it was too late. He let out a huge, “Really!?” upon entering the bedroom and proceeded to lecture me on the importance of peeing on the big girl potty. With a bottle of rug doctor in his left hand and a Shamwow in his right, he knelt down to clean the soaked up carpet. He carefully rolled up orange synthetic shammy, just like the dude did with the two liter of cola in the infomercial. Suddenly he felt a squishy substance under his foot. Sometime during the night DinDin had left a little nugget of his own. The worst part… after all was said and done… I was back in my bed so fresh and so clean… Jason’s Flintstone foot met an additional pile of poopoo under his desk.