I had stacks of those small plastic disposable urine cups which held maybe a tablespoon of urine. Every morning, I am convinced that I can tame the morning pee, and that today will be the day I don't pee on my hand. But those little cups paired with a morning bladder and a half-awake brain -- no hope.
For the first time, I ran out of cups. The ovulation kit I had bought did not come with them and I didn't think to order them seperately. My first pee was wasted because once I sat down, my body signaled it was ready, cup or not. The next time I had to go in the afternoon, I remembered that I needed to grab a cup.
I went to the cabinent and I had two choices: a coffee mug or a red solo cup. Easy choice, red cup! There was no way I would ever use that mug after peeing in it again, no matter how many cycles it sat in the dishwasher -- and the ghostly memory of urine would spread to the other dishes and then the cabinents, and then the whole kitchen would be haunted.
I grabbed the cup and hovered over the toliet. As I released a steady stream of pee, I began to hum "Red Solo Cup" by Toby Keith.
Red solo cup, I fill you up, Let's have a party, let's have a party!
This was the EXACT moment my husband walked by the bathroom. He froze in place, his face was completely blank as he turned to look at me. We locked eyes. The whole apartment was silent except for the innocent tinkling sound as the cup filled halfway.
He broke eye contact as he shook his head, let out a heavy sigh, looked back down at his phone, and walked away. He has truely embraced my brand of crazy.
I love you, red solo cup, I lift you up, Proceed to party, proceed to party!