Sleepwalker
May 15, 2006
We used to live in this ranch syle house where I shared a bunkbed with my older sister. This would put me at about four years old. My parents room was adjacent to our room, and the bathroom was across from them.
One morning my mom was talking to me and told me what I had done the night before. She said she was startled in the middle of the night seeing me walk into the bedroom. I didn’t say anything to them, just walked in like a zombie. My father was there too. I proceeded to to the side wall and began to urinate on it.
Now I don’t think I have sleptwalked since then, but I’m sure I was more creeped out than they were. Sleepwalking was something you’d see in bad comedys where somebody pretends to have a reason for ending up in a room they aren’t supposed to be. But for me, I worried I’d wind up in the street. I actually sat down and tried to break down the situation as best a four-year-old can. Why did I go to my mom’s room to pee? Where did I stand? I came to the conclusion that I must have flipped around my internal map of the house. Had I been initially traveling from the opposite end of the hall, my position would have been perfect for hitting the toilet dead on. Or at least the back of the lid. That made me smile. Why? Because looking at it that way, it was in fact a pretty good shot. Not bad getting off the top bunk while asleep too. The one little detail of the wrong room became irrelevant. I turned a failure into a success!
I don’t wake up these days with urine soaked walls, but in college a friend told me that his drunk roommate came home late one night and pee’d in the fridge. What a jackass I thought. I could do way better than that.
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