I have a problem when I wee. It’s embarrassing; the doctor would surely laugh me out of the surgery. I know that, as age becomes a more significant role in one’s life, the signs start to reveal themselves in unwanted ways, but I’m sure I’m unique in this particular problem; this makes it all the more difficult to accept.
You see, it’s like this: I flush the toilet before I finish weeing.
This is not an isolated case. I don’t remember when I received this urinal malfunction, but even though I am aware of its presence, I am unable to stop the process.
There is no apparant reason for my newfound habit, either. It’s not like I gain any time by flushing premeturely, since I still have to wait before I’ve finished urinating, however early I push the button. In fact, the only side-effect is negative: I have to flush a second time, which consumes more water – water that could be used by some poor Egyptian kid, who, because of my inability to control myself, has to walk 150 miles just to drink the scum that is known as the Nile.
So, I feel alienated, and do not know to whom I should turn. I feel like I shall carry this affliction for the rest of my life, which I’m beginning to hope is a short one.