Anyway, I decided to make my donation for the cause today. After studying in the morning and watching the Red Sox ring ceremony this afternoon, I called the local testing facility to get hours and directions. I was surprised to learn they closed at four -- I'd have to rush! So I packed up my books, brushed my teeth, relieved myself, and headed out the do--
Damn. Force of habit, I guess.
I checked the clock -- it was 3:15 PM.
I checked the fridge -- two cans of diet Pepsi. Two bottled waters.
I knew what I had to do. The funny thing is, I'd just been reading about psychogenic polydipsia.
Thirty minutes later, I dragged my bloated self into the car and started the drive across town. While circling around, looking for parking, I had that first twinge of fear that I might not make it. It wasn't the only twinge I was feeling -- perhaps I had overcompensated with my earlier imbibing.
Under mounting stress, I found a spot at 3:58 Verizon Time. I gingerly climbed the steps to the testing facilty but, once inside, was surprised to see their clock read 4:05.
"Hi, I'm here for a drug test... It's kind of urgent," I announced to the receptionist.
"You're too late. It's after four. The last samples have already been collected!"
I was staring into the void. "Excuse me," I protested, "but I think your clock is running fast..."
Making herself crystal-clear, she said, "We're done for the day."
After all I'd been through, my plans were down the drain. Gee whiz. I was starting to feel a little pissed off.
I'd be leaving empty-handed, but I decided I'd be leaving empty, as well:
"Can I ... use your restroom?"