Trapped!

My brain frequently has arguments with various other body parts during the night, particularly my bladder. I will awake to the urgent messages of that organ to get out of bed and head to the bathroom, only to have my brain say, "What's the big hurry? It'll still be there in the morning. You don't have to get up right now."

"Oh yes, she does," the bladder will interrupt. It's not gonna be a pretty sight if she doesn't, pal."

"It's too cold to get out of bed now," the brain says.

"It's about to get a whole lot warmer in here! Get up!"

"You'll never be able to get back to sleep. Just ignore that big bully down there."

As if I didn't have enough wars going on within my own members, my husband's arm or leg will sometimes get involved in the fray. Just when the bladder has lost all ability to reason and I have decided to give in to its demands and get up, down will come my husband's arm, like a railroad crossing guard, fwoomp, right across my already full bladder. Now I really have to go to the bathroom, but there is no escaping that vise. "See?" says my happy brain. "I told you just to back to sleep. Now you have no choice." Sometimes I suspect that my brain is in control of not just my body, but my husband's, too.