I've always thought that my "intestinal troubles" have been primarily psychological in nature. They always seem to strike at the most inopportune time. Right as we're about to leave on a 20-hour drive to Florida. Or perhaps when we're out the door for a friends party. My morning commute used to be hellish -- you never knew when the T would decide to take an hour and a half to travel a few miles. Nevermind being late, the thought of being stuck on a train-car still strikes fear deep into my bowels.
That all seems to be different now. Frankly I'm a little scared that even writing about this will bring harsh retribution, but for the past 6 weeks, (at least to my sleep-deprived memory*) I've been totally fine. Laura thinks it's probably because I always have something else more important to worry about. She might be right. Frankly, I don't care what the deal is, as long as I can stay clear of planning out my day around my bathroom.
* When I went to make coffee this morning, I put the coffee pod in the machine and hit the button ... without putting a cup under the spout. I didn't realize this until it was done brewing and I went to fetch it.