Into week out. A day closer to surviving this holiday season. Each year I vow to go off on a trip and hide from all of this stress, never actuating, perhaps because I know the stress is internal and I will drag it along with me.
Speaking of dragging along, the news services have finally (several months!) caught up with the work at the Gawjah Institut of Technology of how long it takes a mammal to urinate. [Link] I forget when I first ran across this work but it set off a spate of micturation logging. The reports I have seen have not included human data but I suspect we are skewed to the long side from social pressure. For some reasons we humans consider too frequent micturation to be some sort of stigma.
Which is doubly difficult if one is an introvert.
I have a habit of reflecting on my memorable micturations when I review this. In particular the urination when first I arrived on the campus of the Black Warrior. Part of it was the long car trip with my father steadfastly refusing any intermission in the motoring and the second was my first trough urinal. The U was in the midst of modernizing and eliminating such but I had the good fortune to experience it before it became a Smithsonian thing. And I began to learn about the social aspects of motoring and micturation. Or perhaps I should say "or"?
FD SCP and I have a social engagement this evening and it has given me some quandry on my dihydrogen oxide intake. I have a fairly regular schedule. Plastic enough for day trips but it has been quite a while since we had an evening do and it presents subtle challenges to my scheduling. Ah! The joys of age and intro.
Film at Eleven.