Apologizing in Advance

I have been home from our trip for two days now.

For two days, I have been on the toilet. Constantly.

No, not sick, just normal happenings. I am relieving my bowels of a weeks worth of...um, "collection."

I have this thing, where whenever I go somewhere, could be overnight, could be a week. Could be a foreign country, a cruise ship, or camping in my own tent in the canyons 20 minutes away from my front door. I can't *go.* It's like my butt gets anxiety.

It's not that I don't "need" to *go.* I get the stomach cramps, the bloating... I just can't *go.*

And in Puerto Rico, I ate fresh fruit, greasy fried crud, pastries with cheesy-like substance in the center. I even drank water right out of the tap. One would think I would have the opposite problem that I did. One would think I would be able to produce stool O' plenty.

Nada.

Butt-anxiety. The toilet paper in the hotel mocks me.

Sam doesn't get it. He can *go* on cue. Anytime. Anywhere. Sometimes several times a day. My kids are fine too, in that respect.

It's almost like as soon as I hit my front door, and the smell from my paint, or sawdust or the general Wadley family stench--sent the signal to my bowels. Home Sweet Home.

And the bowels unclenched.