Glass

GLASS
JOE PANCAKE AWOKE in the middle of the night feeling the urge to urinate. He was tired--he was so very tired and sleepy that he didn’t want to get up to go to the bathroom. Getting up would wake him further, making it more difficult for him to get back to sleep. At the same time, he knew that if he did not get up, he would never be able to get back to sleep again anyway. So he stumbled and staggered toward the bathroom, eyes shut, but aware--in the darkness--that the sliding glass door–-the full-length mirror sliding glass door--to the closet was dangerously close. Careful not to crash into it, he made his way safely to the toilet, where he sat down, head in hands, trying to remain awake enough to urinate--but not so much awake that he couldn’t get back to sleep when he tumbled back into bed.
Joe Pancake woke up in the middle of the night feeling the urge to urinate. As he lay there, his rising-resisting consciousness told him that he’d better get up because he’d never be able to get back to sleep so long as he still needed to go to the bathroom. But he was tired--he was so very tired and sleepy–-that he didn’t want to get up. He just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep and not have to worry about urination. Still, tired though he was, he knew that that was not an option. So he got up and stumbled toward the bathroom. In his sleep-wake state, he knew that the closet mirror, full length, was close--dangerously close--and that a miscalculation of step could trip him up and send him crashing into the mirror, shattering the glass, slicing him into a thousand, million, tiny, tattered pieces: a bloody mess. And if that happened, Joe knew that he would be much too tired to try to stop the bleeding--or to crawl to the phone to dial 911--or to do any of the other necessary things to remain alive. All he wanted was to go back to sleep. Fortunately, he made it safely to the toilet, sat down, head in hands, trying not to wake up too much. Done, he stumbled and tumbled back into bed.
Joe Pancake awoke in the middle of the night feeling the urge to urinate. He hated the feeling because he knew that as long as he remained in bed, he’d never be able to get back to sleep. So he struggled briefly against that reality--against life--against the powerful forces of the natural world. Reluctantly, he got up and hurried to the bathroom. But in his haste, he lost his balance, crashed into the mirror, and fell to the floor, the glass and shards--cracked and broken--raining down upon him. One long sliver made a clean, foot-long incision across his shoulder; another, a deep, erratic--though shorter--laceration down his left arm. Fortunately, neither cut severed any vital arteries. But Joe did not know this. He heard only the crash, felt the sharp, quick, stab as the glass did its work. He lay there on the carpet, weak, bleeding, and wishing it were all a dream--and wanting very much just to go back to sleep. He believed that he was seriously–-even mortally--injured and, in his half-sleep consciousness, thought that the best way to go was to go peacefully. Happily. Without any of the pathetic, humiliating struggle against the death act. So he fell back to sleep to die. Hours later, he woke up, surprised to find himself still very much alive, his pajamas covered in blood and urine, and the carpet a mess.
Joe Pancake awoke in the middle of the night feeling the urge to urinate. He knew by now that if he didn’t get up right away, he’d just lie there in bed miserable, unable to get back to sleep even though he was too tired to get up. The urge to urinate does not go away. So he got up, found his way to the bathroom, made it safely to the toilet, sat down with his head in his hands, and, finished, stumbled back to bed. He was asleep within seconds.
Joe Pancake awoke in the middle of the night with the urge to urinate. He knew by now that if he didn’t get up right away, he’d just lie there in bed miserable, unable to get back to sleep even though he was too tired to get up. The urge to urinate does not go away; some things in life are bigger than other things in life. So he got up, found his way successfully to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet with his head in his hands, and, done, went back to bed–-and to sleep.
Joe Pancake awoke in the middle of the night feeling the urge to urinate. He knew what he had to do: get up and be done with it and get back to bed and to sleep.
Joe Pancake awoke in the middle of the night feeling the urge to urinate. He knew what to do: get up, do his business, and get back to bed and to sleep. On his way back, he grabbed a quick sip of water; he always kept a glass of water on the counter by the wash basin.
Joe Pancake awoke in the middle of the night needing to urinate. He knew what to do: get up, piss, and get back to bed–-and to sleep.