Don't cry over spilled....

... urine. That is right. Don't cry about it because that doesn't help the situation and you look even more like a bumbling idiot.


I went to the doctor today for that little ten-footed-secret-that I can't keep secret anymore. Of course, I have to pee in a cup so they can do their own tests. I am shaking like a leaf because this is a stressful thing, even when you are as cool as I am.


At my doctor's office, the bathroom has this little cubby in the wall where you place your "specimin" when you are done. A secret gnome retrieves it from the other side when you are done, but your job is to get it into the cubby.


This proved to be difficult for me. I was concerned about peeing too much in the cup, because I could just imagine what they would write in my chart: "pisses like a racehorse." So I peed a tiny bit, put the cup down, finished peeing, performed basic hygeine rituals, pulled my pants up, flushed, then washed my hands. I picked up the pee-pee cup and headed toward the cubby.


I opened the door with my left hand and had the pee-pee cup in my right. The cubby door, which is springloaded with a trampoline spring, slipped from my left hand and hit my right hand, so the cup of pee-pee spilled all over the floor and my shoe. There were about three molecules of urine left in the cup, so I can imagine what they will put in my chart now: "pees like a tiny mouse."


But, after all of that stress, the nurse said I was right - I am pregnant!