I Wish My Body Wouldn't Do That

One of the greatest feelings there is comes when you relieve your bladder after holding it shut for a prolonged amount of time. The sense of relief is incomparable to most. In my personal opinion, that is why morning pees are the best, as you free yourself of ten pounds of water weight in one powerful, continuous stream.
What I don’t agree with is when my bladder reschedules its release time right smack in the wee hours. 
Specifically on the days I have to wake up early for work. 
During the sacred moments when I’m in my deepest of sleeps. 
Yet, at five-fricken-thirty in the morning, the lower belly starts to feel pressure. I can no longer spoon my pillow without threatening leakage. I cannot risk lying on my back as the spread out form of my body worsens the sensation. Keeping my eyes shut is now the only thing simulating sleep but now my dream has faded and all I can think of is the fact that I must concentrate on not pissing myself in bed. 
There is no way to continue my slumber like this.
So I get up, stumble through my darkened one room house, and slump heavily over the beckoning porcelain bowl. I keep my eyes shut as much as possible, squinting at the most to fool my brain into thinking it’s still asleep. When all is done, I stumble back to bed, glancing at my clock and growling at the fact it’s five-thirtyseven. Almost six. Little more than two hours of sleep. However, it takes me about an hour on average to actually fall asleep, so now, I only have an hour. One hour to suffice me with enough rest to last the day. 
Of course once I finally drift off to sleep and continue where I left off in my dream, my alarm goes off. From the midst of my dreamstate I am thrown into the waking world feeling exhausted as though I never slept. I drag myself out from my covers already thinking about when I can go to bed again. My eyes sting throughout my shift, wanting to close. Beneath my mask, numerous yawns are trapped. The hours slog on and all I want to do is go home and sleep. And finally the night comes and off to bed I go. Only to wake up in the wee hours to take a wiz all over again.
This will plague me for several days straight and then end suddenly for months. Once I find myself waking up a couple hours before my alarm, I know I’m stuck living this repeated purgatory for a week or so. The day I wake up realizing I made it through the night without the urge to pee makes the rest of my day. I wake up gleeful solely because my bladder survived the window of absolute unconsciousness. I must say, I’m longing for that moment to come soon because holy shit I’ve been so tired all week!

(This is a strange post as it is of two topics this time. This is mainly because neither of what I want to say in it is enough for one entire addition to the blog. Nevertheless, may it be enjoyable all the same.)

Calves. We all have them. The leg ones. Maybe not some of us, but for the most part, we all have calves. There isn’t much to think about when it comes to that part of the leg generally...until it commits mutiny.
Do you ever find yourself sleeping and wanting to reposition yourself and in doing so you straighten out your leg but it gives this ever-so-slight warning feeling but since you’re half asleep you kind of ignore it even though in the back of your head you know exactly what that sensation means and then two seconds later when you fully extend that leg you suddenly find yourself praying for death? Does that ever happen to you? 
I don’t get calf cramps unless I’m in bed trying to sleep, currently sleeping, or in that weird inbetween stage of slumber. And when they emerge, boy do they make their presence known. When I feel that slight strain of muscle I know what is destined to follow and yet every time I try to finesse straightening my leg despite that. But what do you know, in seconds the entirety of my calf muscle seizes up to what feels like the size of a hamster. There is nothing to do to end the teeth-gritting pain but to hoist yourself out of bed and try to stretch it out. This of course also hurts like hell and you’re left to stand in a stupid lunge, decked out in a twenty-year old t-shirt and boxers, whisper-screaming every profanity you can think of because you ignored your brain like a idiot. 
Even after the agonizing minutes of stretching out my knotted mass of muscle, I’m left with the facts that now I am fully awake, it will take me forever to go back to sleep, and I’m scared to lay down in any position because my leg might explode again. I also get to look forward to it feeling terribly sore in the morning. Just what I need to spice up my day’s existence.
All in all, regardless of how much I always want to call it a day the moment I wake up and go back to bed, my sleepytime hours are equally as dreaded, for, if they are interrupted, that’s it until the next night. It’s downright stressful and I find myself often enough not being able to find peace in woken times or slumber hours and thus live in a constant state of fatigue. So if you ever run into me and I look like I’ve been awake for years, it’s due to one or both of these things that my body torments me with.