Kidney nut

This frigid, almost arctic condition outside only makes my snugly cozy fort of comfort all the more enticing. Patience is a proven age old virtue, so I'll relax and wait.

To be in a game so boring is undoubtedly torture. The players are soaked to the skin and move like frogs on the field under this record down pour. At the end, home team wins and champagne flows from the champion cup. While filing through the frustratingly long exit line I pass by the new addition to the stadium - some euro style foutain with water overflowing an artfully decorated bowl, and leaking through a conspicuously placed gap underneath.

Highway 1 is flooded so I have to take rutty State 29 which is now swamped with puddles. Off my exit I notice the sagging bulk on the town water tower is just a hairline fracture away from a disastrous burst. Sure enough a reason for me to speed home.

Home in couch position, I pick up my surf board - the clicker - and ready to let my new dish dazzle me with the gauranteed infinite variety of visual delights on the tube. Strangely though, as promising as a show like "The French Dames" has only a european engineer babbling about water sippage through some concrete cracks at a reservoir. So I decide to spend my afternoon power washing the driveway. Hosing off stuff gives me the high - not a girly squirt, no, a manly gush, splash! Finger on the trigger but pleasure so invigorating and liberating I inevitably feel guilty.

But why would I feel guilty anyway? And why is it so dark in here? Here is no driveway by the way. Oh... wait... I see... I should do it now... but it's so cold... but there's no way I can hold it till the morning... but it's so comfy here... but it's bad for the kidney... and after a little mental tug-o-war I realize I have no choice but to hop out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, cause I really need to pee.