Right on the dot, this last day of September, the fourth and last instalment of Bathroom, the Sunday Story (read parts I, II and III here).
This is not like me. I’m usually specific about being where I am. So here I am (apparently), sting on the toilet, trying to figure out what happened yesterday.
So far as I can tell, it was a rather uneventful evening. Go home, ate dinner, then spent some time on the phone with my boyfriend, who was out of town. Then? Nothing. I must have done what I usually do on a weeknight: read, wash up and go to bed. As I was going through the events of the evening, I noticed something weird with the floor.
I’m pretty used to floors being solid, not liquid. Especially since I actually had been walking on this one, not a minute ago (seemed like days ago). That’s when I glanced at my reflection in the shower: I was becoming fuzzy.
I knew what I had to do; I finally knew what was going on. Oh, I got me good! I didn’t know him to be so sneaky pranky. I stood up again on the toilet seat, took a deep breath, and jumped, dove into the floor.
I should have known. He wanted me out the house to throw me a surprise! Our first anniversary!
I tell you, sometimes it’s not easy dating a wizard!
