frogs in the desert 

the landlord had sent a crew to repaint the bathroom in their apartment for the next two days. since she worked from home, her roommate and her agreed that it worked out great to have someone home the entire time the painters were at the house. however, as she thought more about the logistics of the situation, she was overcome with a moment of panic.

"what do i do if i have to use the restroom?"

well, of course, they'd have to let her, right? or, would she have to meditate in her room to relieve herself of bladder contractions? maybe, she could imagine herself to be like one of those desert frogs she read about in high school biology. in order to preserve water, the frogs would release their urine only once a day as a gelatin-like pellet.

"if only," she thought.

"if only?" she thought again. she couldn't believe that she'd rather morph into a desert amphibian than overcome her shyness to ask to use her own restroom. what a coward. what an idiot.

"shit," she thought, "maybe i should brew myself a large pot of coffee before the painters arrive, so that i'll be forced to use the restroom whenever i damn well please!"

she thought again, "that was so damn testosterone of me. i'd rather be a frog than a macho bitch." she hated the b-word, but hated even more her moment of testosterone transgression. over the next two days, she decided to limit her intake of liquids.