Disclaimer: If you would like to perceive me as a respectable and classy squad leader, you should refrain from reading this.
If you read my last blog, Bottled Highlights, you know about the chronic problem we have with falling down the hill near our house in Rwanda. Rwanda is known as the land of 1,000 hills. We are conveniently situated on the steeper side of one of those hills and at night it is a ridiculously treacherous task to get down that hill.
So last night, we had a girl’s night out. We found pizza. Seeing as we’ve eaten mostly beans, rice, and fries for a good portion of the month, I ate a whole pizza by myself. It was incredible. I washed it down with a sufficient, but not excessive amount of beverage.
By the time we arrive to the top of the hill we must repel down, I have worked out a decent urge to urinate due to a violent ride in the back of a taxi van and the abnormal amount of pizza weighing down on my bladder. Seeing as I’m not a two year old, we proceed forward thinking I would go to the bathroom when we arrived at the house.
I was wrong.
Just as we get near the end of our precarious decent down the mountain, I hear Amber yell behind me and a ridiculous amount of scuffling. I look back and see Amber laid out sliding down the hill, arms flailing, feet up in the air. I can’t adequately portray with words what this looked like.
Anyway, we just start dying laughing. Yesterday was a rough day and last week was a rough week and I just needed a evil purging, joy releasing, belly laugh. It came. As did my urine. With each laugh it just kept coming. Humiliating I know, but I fell over and peed may pants like an untrained preschooler. We were all rolling on the ground dying laughing.
Please picture the scene- Amber rolling down the hill and screaming- the rest of us dying laughing- me peeing my pants. Out of the darkness our pastor emerges. Apparently he was visiting a neighbor. He tries to get me to stand up but there’s no way in heck I’m doing that. I’m pretty sure he knows what’s going on but praise the Lord he has enough grace to walk away.
I sneak in the back door still dying with laughter and have to do the walk of shame to the outdoor bucket shower to clean my juvenile self off. Sorry there aren’t any pictures. I’m sure you can guess why.
Classy.
