A Royal Victory in the Night

I’m calling it a win: I got up to pee three times, but fell asleep on the throne once, so it only felt like twice.

At this stage in life, victories don’t look like championship rings or ticker-tape parades. It seems like they could use some extra sleep in between bathroom trips.

And, in my book, falling asleep on the porcelain seat qualifies as bonus rest. Sure, the ergonomics are questionable, and the décor is a bit undesired, but your body takes what it can get, and you learn to applaud it.

The whole business of nighttime visits is a mystery no one warned us about. When I was younger, I could down a soda before bed, sleep eight hours straight, and wake up feeling like I could run a mile.

Now, one glass of water after dinner is enough to set the internal alarm system into a fire drill. The bladder, once a loyal companion, has turned into that needy friend who texts at all hours, “Hey, you up? We need to talk.”

Trip number one always comes right after I’ve drifted into my best dream. You know the kind—flying over rooftops, or fishing in a mountain stream where the trout practically leap into your lap. Then—bam!—nature calls, and I shuffle to the commode with my eyes half-shut, hoping muscle memory knows the way.

Trip number two usually sneaks up just as I’m warming back into the sheets. The dog sighs. The floorboards creak like an old ship, and I think to myself, this is the midnight voyage no one asked for.

Trip number three is where the magic happened last night. Somewhere between sitting down and standing up, my brain hit the snooze button.

Next thing I know, I wake up, chin on chest, arms folded, like a king slumped on his throne after a long banquet. The bathroom nightlight was still on, the fan humming like a lullaby.

Some people might consider that a loss of dignity. Not me.

I count it as gained efficiency. Why waste the effort of going back to bed to wake up again twenty minutes later?

I compressed two trips into one. That’s the kind of multitasking wisdom you can only achieve through age and trial.

Besides, it teaches a bigger lesson–we’ve got to keep redefining what counts as a win. In your twenties, a win might be pulling an all-nighter and still making it to work on time.

In your forties, it might be paying off the car or fixing the sink without a plumber. In your sixties and beyond, a win is as simple as falling asleep anywhere—even in the most unexpected places.

It’s all about adjusting the scoreboard. If you’re waiting for the world to hand you trophies, you’ll be disappointed. But if you start recognizing the little triumphs—the buttered toast landing face-up, the parking space opening close to the door, the jar lid that pops off on the first twist—you’ll find victories stacked up all over the place.

So, yes, last night was a royal victory. The bathroom ain’t designed as a sleeping chamber, but it served the purpose. I woke up refreshed, chuckling at my own ingenuity, and proud to declare–three trips reduced to two, thanks to a quick nap on the throne.

Tonight, who knows? Maybe I’ll push my luck and aim for only two trips total, or I’ll discover the comfort of the shower potty chair.

Either way, I’ll count it as a win, because life isn’t about where you sleep—it’s about learning to celebrate the odd little ways you rest along the journey.