Strange days indeed - a 24 x 7 experiment

[oznl]

5 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

No wet nights to report lately. Maybe I should start going to bed damp, per your suggestion. Because of my hectic schedule lately, I've been tending to drop a very heavy nappy into the bin right before jumping in the shower, and then I change into a fresh one and go to bed. I'll need to roll back the shower timing a bit if I want to hit the sheets in at least glancingly-wet baby pants. It's probably worth a shot. 

For me that was ONE component for sure and early on, it was a VERY necessary ingredient for sleep-wetting (obviously now, less so).  These days, I doubt I could get through cleaning my teeth without having to use my nappy a little (running water sounds) anyway so the odds of me going to bed completely dry are pretty low.

The OTHER component (and obviously, I'm speculating here) is that I think you might be almost-subconsciously trying to manage use of your night diapers and I think this is an effective antidote to developing bed-wetting (assuming this is something you are looking for).

I tape on a BetterDry, and just before bed, haul up a thick, terry-lined Babykins waterproof over the top of it as insurance and what will be, will be.  Worst case is I will be washing a terry over-pant as well as tossing a BetterDry in the morning but I will never be using my bladder to store pee:  that's what my nappy is for.  YMMV as they say.

[Stroller]

13 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

No wet nights to report lately.

Me neither, but last night was the closest yet, I think.  In the early hours I was just starting to wake up, with no sense I needed to wet, and then without any warning I started wetting when I was still half asleep.  So I'm going to sleep with the tap open, waking up with the tap open.  My guess is that wetting in my sleep isn't far off...

[oznl]

16 hours ago, Stroller said:

Me neither, but last night was the closest yet, I think.  In the early hours I was just starting to wake up, with no sense I needed to wet, and then without any warning I started wetting when I was still half asleep.  So I'm going to sleep with the tap open, waking up with the tap open.  My guess is that wetting in my sleep isn't far off...

I can remember that happening.  The other variant was waking up to find myself wetting and struggling to understand whether I had woken to have a pee or woken because I was having a pee.

The earliest clue though I think was an occasional dissonance between how wet I was in the morning and how wet I *thought* I should be based on my recollection of events.

For me, the descent into bedwetting seems to be a series of very long "plateaus" where nothing changes followed by a sharp drop.

I'm starting to think I might just be coming off my most recent "plateau" of 2 - 3 nights per week.  Over the last couple of weeks I think I've wet the bed MOST nights.

[oznl]

I spent a (what is for me, very rare) couple of hours today NOT wearing a nappy.

It was one of my six-monthly Dr’s appointments for which I, yet again, squibbed and decided to attend in grown-up underwear.

My moral authority for big-boy-pants was somewhat undermined by waking up in a cloth nappy that I’d apparently soaked in my sleep.  Madam Alcohol’s mid-week visit had exacted its usual toll although it’s debatable whether I’d wet the bed or rather wet-the-chair I’d managed to fall asleep in front of the TV after drinking a vat of red wine.  Once again, the slightly surreal experience of waking to find oneself in one’s armchair, at nearly midnight, alone and in front of a TV blathering away with a program you can’t recognise, the program that you WERE almost watching having ended hours ago after you fell asleep in front of it. 

I’d understand falling asleep in front of “Antiques Roadshow” but I have a queasy suspicion I managed it in front of “The Matrix”.  This could be a sign that I should drink less.

I could NOT remember noticing the state of my nappy as I high-tailed it to a real bed, hoping that my beloved would not notice my absence (she did not).

Removing the sodden garment and after a quick rinse in the shower the next morning, I rummaged in my sock drawer to retrieve my sole surviving pair of underpants.  Aged and sweated refugees from my gym bag, they are an artefact from an earlier life where I had a career and a gym membership.  The elastic in them is also failing, they crackled alarmingly as I stretched them open.

It’s amazing how “empty” ones pants seem going without a nappy.  I felt almost naked down there and my jeans seemed more like a tent.  On the upside, I immediately noticed my body’s improved flexibility.  I was able to get into (and out of) my low-slung car with less effort and sliding about.

These type of medical appointments are not of high value (unless we consider my Doctor’s BMW lease payments).  They are a kind of box-ticking exercise considered necessary to resupply prescriptions for another six months for drugs that I will be taking for the rest of my life along with renew “referrals” to specialist practitioners that again, I will be seeing for the rest of my (or, more optimistically THEIR) lives.

The odds of me being prodded and poked to the extent of nappy-discovery at one of these consultations are extremely low and today proved no exception.  The extent of disrobing was a rolled up sleeve for a blood pressure check. 

I’d been toying with mentioning the “depression” word with my Dr.  The pain of my redundancy, aggravated by the dismal reemployment prospects for an aged IT worker from an upended and rapidly obsoleting IT sector seems limitless.  The world has been getting greyer and I know that I have withdrawn from leisure pursuits and friends.  I also seem to have lost that tsunami of motivation that saw me frantically renovating the house in those first months of unemployment: half-painted walls and tools laying about are the order of the day.  I wonder how much this mental state is muting my dwindling attempts to reignite a career versus simply tiring of rejection letters.

But I didn’t.  I’m male.  If I ignore something long enough, it might go away and I have my appallingly-paid “gig economy” work one or two days per week that lets me pretend that I’m not simply unemployed.  It might be my imagination (or, my slide into permanent bed-wetting) but it seems I’ve been sleeping slightly better lately anyway.

A few jokes, laughs and I was in and out in 8 minutes.

With dry, empty pants, no obvious new health issues and a fresh prescription in my hand, I decided to “go for gold” and make the additional 45 minute round trip to get my medications rather than to duck back home and put a nappy on.

No problems.  I spent nearly 3 hours NOT wearing nappies.

It’s true that the previous night’s red-wine-fuelled session had left me somewhat dehydrated to begin with but I really didn’t seem to have any urges.  There were a couple of hints that pee was available to void but I remembered at all times that I was NOT attired for this and that I’d have to hang on.

It was around 11am before I was back home and changed into a pull-up cloth nappy.  I wet it more reflexively rather than any overwhelming need as I completed arranging my plastic pants.  I’m not sure there was even that much pee then.

It’s quite confusing.  I was a LOT more continent today than I thought I might have been.  There seems to be wild fluctuations in how my body behaves these strange days.  There are some days where I couldn’t envisage operating without nappies.  I’ve had urgency, dripping, bladder spasms.  If it had looked to be that kind of day today, my contingency plan was to wear a pad and try to wing it.   And then some other day, it’s like the last 2.5 years hadn’t happened.

At this point, only the bed-wetting stands as a silent monument to permanent damage I’ve inflicted on myself during this venture.

In any case, the “dealing with my doctor and nappies” can has been kicked another six months down the road.

[oznl]

A rather odd dream from the night before:  I was changing my nappy.  This wasn’t unusual except that I was about to decommission a Rearz “Alpaca”:  a nappy I’ve neither owned nor even sighted close up.  I’ve only read about them and seen pictures online.

I was trying to make sure my bladder was completely empty before untaping it in order to minimise the chances of dripping on the bathroom floor (this sometimes happens these days) but it seemed I only had a small amount of pee I could void.  I waited for the dripping to taper off before removing the Alpaca.  I remember feeling that this nappy really didn’t need changing and I might be wasting it.

In stark contrast to my usual diet of vanilla, white nappies, the Rearz Alpaca was resplendent in full AB regalia: suitably cartoon-alpaca-themed visual motifs that in real life, would have my beloved phoning the police.  Capacious and comfortable (despite never having worn one outside of a dream), upon removing it I was indeed annoyed to see that it indeed really wasn’t very wet (just a smallish yellow patch at the crotch) and could have easily been left in place.

I recalled this dream when I awoke the next morning having yet again, drenched my BetterDry in my sleep.  Logically I must have been at least damp when I went to bed but after that I could recall nothing further apart from my dream.

Perhaps this is a temporary phase but I’m bedwetting nearly every night at the moment which leads to my next weekly update.

I think I found our bedroom to be smelling faintly of pee yesterday and I don’t know why.  I could hazard a guess I suppose.

Although it seems that the bedwetting-fairy is paying a protracted visit, I’ve this week been relatively free from nocturnal nappy leaks (warmer weather = less pee) so it’s a mystery as to why the room should smell.

Compounding this mystery is that my beloved passed no comment.  Perhaps I was having an olfactory hallucination.

The cue to this discovery was warmer weather.  We went out for a dinner party on Saturday night.  It seems that winter is over here in Queensland even it is only mid-August, it had been 28C that day and by departure evening was still 22C.  We’d closed the bedroom door before departing  This was to stop our notoriously unhygienic, geriatric cat from indulging her favourite pastime when left in the house unsupervised, sleeping on our pillow, perchance even to regurgitate a semi-digested gecko (they clearly don’t agree with her so why she persists in eating them is another unsolved feline mystery).

For some reason, all the bedroom windows were also closed.

We returned around midnight.  Having changed into a BetterDry at around 6:30pm before departing and in consequence to a day of yard work and warmer weather, I was hardly wet at all upon on my return (despite beer) so I’d decided I didn’t need a nappy change and could deal with it in the morning.

Flinging open the bedroom door, our failure to open the windows rewarded us with an overly-warm bedroom with what was (to me at least) a faint but obvious smell of wet nappy.  Not strong, just the merest hint of a toddler-in-need-of-maintenance.

Swiftly I deployed window opening and the ceiling fan however my beloved (a suitable quantity of champagne having been imbibed), made a bee-line directly for the ensuite, allowing me to change remove my outerwear, compression and plastic pants to replace them with my lined waterproofs and pyjamas over my Better-NotQuiteDry.

Within a minute or two, fresh air had apparently erased any evidence but I was left wondering.  Was it our bed that smells?  Perhaps it was just some inadequately-rinsed plastic pants in my nappy-hamper?

Re-investigating the bedroom in the morning yielded no further evidence, even though it seems I had, yet again, wet myself whilst asleep.  I had zero recollection of peeing overnight and yet I found myself empty-bladdered with soggy, saggy bum-wear upon arising to make the Sunday morning coffee.

[oznl]

I picked up two and one half days of work this week which was good.  For the most part, my “3 day week” has been just one day, spread over two.  Consequentially, the amount of money it has brought in has been laughably small.  Concepts such as “minimum wage” are of no relevance to a contractor and some dismal calculations suggest that if I factor in all vehicle costs (since I have to drive my car from site to site, up to 12 of them in one day), I’m probably paying my employer for the privilege of going to work.  Thusly, I choose to ignore my vehicle costs.

For the most part, it’s been no problem to accomplish this work in nappies.  Although I will meet and greet, the work is basically on my own and I am my own boss.  In fact the nappies have been a blessing.  There are no breaks (I’m a contractor), there are no bathroom facilities (I’m a contractor) and there’s no time (I’m a contractor).

Despite my 1 litre water bottle in the car, low-level dehydration is fairly normal and there’s been pretty much zero leakage.

It’s kind of hard to divine exactly when and where my nappy gets used across work days because the act of using it has long since faded into the background.  I still believe there is some psychological inhibitor at play as I notice that I will frequently wet a little when I get back into my car after completing a job.  I’ve read somewhere that one’s car is considered a psychological extension of one’s home: a kind of “safe” place.  I have actually used my nappy a little whilst out of the car, on a site but this was largely an experiment and I had to very deliberately do it which is not normal for me now.  These days I’ve reached the point where I can wet semi-automatically during the day (although I can inhibit this if I choose to).

Anyway, Wednesday was awkward.  It was “unequal shirt” day.  All my shirts are equal but some shirts are more equal than others.  In haste, I’d grabbed a “less equal” shirt from the rack that morning.

It looks ok hanging on the rack but its Achilles’ heel is its body length.  Strangely, the arms are long enough and it goes around my girth comfortably but it seems that the low-cost Bangladeshi clothing elves decided they could save a little cotton by NOT having this shirt extend more than an inch or two below my belt line.

So, it doesn’t want to stay tucked in.  I wear nappies.  You can see where this is going.

As mentioned early, jumping in and out of my car is one of my principle professional skills in this gig-economy near-job.

It was probably the third site of the day.  Rather unhelpfully, the weather god had decided to rain upon me.  Grabbing my clipboard, I hauled myself out of the car and felt the cool, damp air caress my right hip.  That’s not normal.  A quick clothing re-arrangement occurred and I was back in the game.

The next site, the same thing happened.  I attempted a more substantive re-dressing of myself although my options here were somewhat limited by my location on a quiet suburban street (the rain had turned to sun) occupied primarily by ball-playing kids and mothers pushing prams.

I did the best I could.

The next site, I again emerged from the car partially undressed.  I again repaired the damage but things were getting worse.  It was like my less-equal-than-others shirt was staging a protest.

“NOOOOO!!!” it cried (using inaudible shirt-language).  “I don’t WANT to go back down in there, it’s HOT and smells like PEE next to that nappy!  I want to feel the wind beneath my WINGS!!”   Sometimes my shirts channel Bette Midler.

By the time I got back to the car, I again noticed the cooling breeze at my hip and the small of my back.

Before getting in, I evaluated my level of sartorial elegance in the reflection of me cast upon my car’s tinted side driver window.  Not good:  my shirt had again come untucked and ridden up to expose a substantial swathe of midriff and more concerningly, a substantial swathe of nappy and plastic pant.  It seems like my black compression pant had joined the exodus and fled south as my shirt fled north.

No idea how long I’d been that way or how much attention had been paid to me.

It was that way for the rest of the day.  At every opportunity, my shirt rode up and out of my pant waist to expose the top of a decreasingly-dry nappy under plastic pants. 

The obvious answer is of course to wear a “onesie”.  The challenges with this are:

1. I’m barely earning enough to keep the car rolling and pay for my nappies with this job as it is.  New accessories are out of the question.  My single “onesie” (bought as an experiment) is pastel blue (would need black) and designed for the near-arctic conditions of Canada.
2. I live in a sub-tropical climate.  For much of the year, it’s hot and sweaty enough with the nappies.  Further layers of clothing are not in any way attractive, especially ones woven for blizzards
3. Due to COVID, nobody local has stock of anything, anywhere, anyway…

For now, I am retiring my less-equal-shirt.

[BabyJilly_S]

Just wanted to say thanks for posting, I probably should comment more as your posts are always interesting funny and probably a view into my future  (well less the wife as I am on my own) 

[Little Sherri]

1 hour ago, oznl said:

The obvious answer is of course to wear a “onesie”.  The challenges with this are:

1. I’m barely earning enough to keep the car rolling and pay for my nappies with this job as it is.  New accessories are out of the question.  My single “onesie” (bought as an experiment) is pastel blue (would need black) and designed for the near-arctic conditions of Canada.
2. I live in a sub-tropical climate.  For much of the year, it’s hot and sweaty enough with the nappies.  Further layers of clothing are not in any way attractive, especially ones woven for blizzards
3. Due to COVID, nobody local has stock of anything, anywhere, anyway…

I was going to chime in with "get some onesies" but then I read this. They have definitely made a huge difference in my comfort level wearing diapers when I'm out and about, or even bent over, feeding the dog, while the kids are making themselves breakfast - I just don't worry about waistline diaper excursions when I'm in one, whereas when I'm not, I find myself tucking my shirt in constantly. So, when I forgo a onesie, I usually also forgo pants, which eliminates tucking considerations. However I can only do that once the kids are in bed. But generally, the slick plastic exterior of a diaper conspires against you if there isn't sufficient material, or snaps. 

One option might be the golf shirt style onesies that are on the market - one of those would offer the discussed onesie advantages without adding another layer of fabric to sweat through. However, they're not cheap - Rearz has them for something like $60 CAD. I am considering buying one if I see them on sale again - I don't own any right now. I missed the window last time - I saw that they were on sale, but they'd sold through my size (L). Medium makes me look sad and desperate, and XL makes me look frumpy and tented. 

All of the above having been said, I was once punished for my hubris in considering my wardrobe security to be impenetrable with a onesie on, when I went in to say goodnight to my youngest, and ended up sitting on her bed, discussing the day's events for a bit. Luckily, she turned the lights out just before I got up to depart, but on rising, I became aware of the fact that the back of my onesie, with its curious (for a middle-aged man's clothing) crescent of snaps, was hanging completely out. I had gotten into the habit of wearing a onesie, but not buttoning it, when I was around the house, because they hang so low that they never work themselves out of place. But I'd just donned shorts specifically to come say goodnight, and evidently, I'd pulled them up under the rear flap of the onesie. Oops. 

Also, once, I lifted a child high up because she wanted to see over a fence, and while holding her above me, I realized that my (again) unsnapped onesie had managed to climb sufficiently in the front as to show the beginnings of the plunging cut of the front flap, although no diaper was visible. I was facing the fence but had people standing all around me, so when I put the kid down, I made a show of being intrigued by the screws holding the boards on, until the group's focus shifted to whatever she was demanding next, and I was able to tuck it back in and tighten up the belt a notch. 

[oznl]

9 hours ago, BabyJilly_S said:

Just wanted to say thanks for posting, I probably should comment more as your posts are always interesting funny and probably a view into my future  (well less the wife as I am on my own) 

Comments/questions are always welcomed.  Sometimes it can feel a little bit like radio broadcasting rather than conversation!

9 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

 I made a show of being intrigued by the screws holding the boards on, until the group's focus shifted to whatever she was demanding next, and I was able to tuck it back in and tighten up the belt a notch. 

Ah yes, the old "tactical infatuation" trick...  Been there, done that...

[Amber's Boy]

Long time listener, first time caller.

So, my bedwetting came back strong a couple weeks ago.  Four nights in a fortnight. Leaks, though, not just sleep-pee.  Sleep-pee,  happens most nights.  So, it seems the pocket diapers with double stuffers isn't doing it, and likely can't be tripled.  

I've moved over to tykables with their velcro tabs.  If I wake up dry, I can wear it again tonight.  The ones I only do a little sleep-pee in always feel wasted, but I haven't had to change my sheets out of schedule since the change.

[oznl]

8 hours ago, Amber's Boy said:

Long time listener, first time caller.

So, my bedwetting came back strong a couple weeks ago.  Four nights in a fortnight. Leaks, though, not just sleep-pee.  Sleep-pee,  happens most nights.  So, it seems the pocket diapers with double stuffers isn't doing it, and likely can't be tripled.  

I've moved over to tykables with their velcro tabs.  If I wake up dry, I can wear it again tonight.  The ones I only do a little sleep-pee in always feel wasted, but I haven't had to change my sheets out of schedule since the change.

Interesting.  There's a scenario I can envisage (sorting out ageing relative issues in a remote city) where my bedwetting will become a complete and utter PITA and rather challenging to conceal.  A "reusable" (but in the event of battle action being seen, "disposable") product is probably going to be the least-worst answer.  So these Tykables are complete remove/replace tolerant?  How many times can you do that (although I suspect that ANY dry nights for me might be becoming a thing of the past).

 

[Amber's Boy]

They're pretty tough.  I had three dry nights and they were fine.

[BedWetMark]

On 8/29/2021 at 1:54 AM, oznl said:

Interesting.  There's a scenario I can envisage (sorting out ageing relative issues in a remote city) where my bedwetting will become a complete and utter PITA and rather challenging to conceal.  A "reusable" (but in the event of battle action being seen, "disposable") product is probably going to be the least-worst answer.  So these Tykables are complete remove/replace tolerant?  How many times can you do that (although I suspect that ANY dry nights for me might be becoming a thing of the past).

 

They are awesome! You can undo the velcro tabs and do them back up many times - they work during the working day for me as I un-tape the lower tapes and pull the nappy down for a number 2, then pull up and tape back up.  But they'll survive quite a few of these and the 'camelots' hold A LOT. Put one of them on before bed and you won't be changing it before you next go to bed if you want to do so.  They'll be fat as f**k though, so pretty noticeable. 

[oznl]

44 minutes ago, BedWetMark said:

They are awesome! You can undo the velcro tabs and do them back up many times - they work during the working day for me as I un-tape the lower tapes and pull the nappy down for a number 2, then pull up and tape back up.  But they'll survive quite a few of these and the 'camelots' hold A LOT. Put one of them on before bed and you won't be changing it before you next go to bed if you want to do so.  They'll be fat as f**k though, so pretty noticeable. 

Good lord!  A 7 liter nappy!  Assuming that "real world" range is around 30% of ISO capacity, that would very nearly be a 24 hour nappy.

It turns out they are available in Australia but breathtakingly expensive: even at case prices they are AUD4.40 per unit (USD3.18). 

As a daily-driver at that price I'd need to use one per day.  I suppose if I was home alone, wearing a kevlar onesie to hold it up it might be ok but I'd worry about skin condition, habitually marinating in the same nappy for that long.

I wonder if they cope with side-sleepers.

[BedWetMark]

40 minutes ago, oznl said:

Good lord!  A 7 liter nappy!  Assuming that "real world" range is around 30% of ISO capacity, that would very nearly be a 24 hour nappy.

It turns out they are available in Australia but breathtakingly expensive: even at case prices they are AUD4.40 per unit (USD3.18). 

As a daily-driver at that price I'd need to use one per day.  I suppose if I was home alone, wearing a kevlar onesie to hold it up it might be ok but I'd worry about skin condition, habitually marinating in the same nappy for that long.

I wonder if they cope with side-sleepers.

To be honest, I've had fewer leaks with them (at night) than other nappies. They are all round very very good. 

Having said that, I think I must be a "front sleeper" as whenever I leak it's always out the top rather than the side? But I leak very infrequently with these I have to say. The only time these (camelots) leak for me is press out leaks during the day. Too much tea and coffee during the working day, sit down and bam, wet spots. Anticipating this, I always wee standing up after 3pm or so and make sure I stay standing for a while. As my team seem to call me a lot, it's easy to keep the headphones in, standing up, then run off to the shower around 6pm. 

 

 

 

[oznl]

At 5:00am this morning it occurred to me that my years of permanent nappy use have done more than make me a bit accident-prone in the underwear department.  They are leaving an indelible mark by way of mannerisms and traits, to wit:

The “Cowboy stance”:  If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.  If it just walks like a duck, it might be a cowboy, or in nappies, or even a cowboy in nappies (double points for this). 

My feet point to 11 o’clock and 1 o’clock permanently these days and there is a slight, but to the trained eye detectable waddle to my gait that is dialed in as default.  I’ve risked walking up the hall without a nappy and my feet STILL point that way.  My stance and gait have changed over years to accommodate bulky (and usually a bit wet) nappies.  I suppose that’s cheaper and less injury-prone than evolving to accommodate a bulky (and sometimes a bit wet) horse between my legs but it’s still something John Wayne and I have in common.

I wonder if my hips will still be ok with this in a decade’s time.  What happens to octogenarian cowboys?

The “Did I leak on the chair?” check:  This one, like cheese, crackers and alcohol, appears at dusk when my day nappy is reaching the end of its shift.  Things are usually pretty soggy down there by that time and leaks may happen.  Arising from a comfy chair, a quick glance backwards and maybe even a surreptitious dab at the back of my thighs to ensure that anything wet has remained on the other side of my plastic pant is my new normal.

I don’t really know what I’d do if there WAS an accusatory puddle left behind.  Perhaps a diversion tactic:  “Ooooh LOOK!!!   Aliens have landed by our letterbox!” Followed by, “Oh sorry, it must have been an unusually vivid hallucination, by the way, is that smell our kitchen on fire?”

The “Damn you gravity!” adjustment:  Again, this tends to occur more frequently with a nappy that is filled near to the point of changing but some products are better than others.  Boosted Abena L4s, whilst comfortable, capacious and with excellent wicking characteristics are ardent Jules Verne fans, persistently attempting to journey to the center of the Earth, via my ankles.

My now-habitual countermeasure is a double-tug-with-rearrangement move.  Hooking both hips of the nappy and plastic pants with my thumbs slipped behind my pants belt at both sides, a quick wriggle with a simultaneous upward hauling motion restores padding to proximity of the parts that require it.  This maneuver will often segue into the next habit-formed practice…

The “Is my nappy on display to the world?” check:  This is entirely reflexive and again, triggered by arising from the seated position.  A surreptitious and almost-subconscious tug on my shirt ensures that there isn’t a cheerful peek from plastic pants appearing between my upper and lower outerwear.  Black spandex compression pants should save the day in any case but it never hurts to check.

The “Is my night nappy coping?” check:  The advent of habitual bedwetting has meant that in contrast to my day nappies, during the night I often have little to no idea of what is in my night nappy.  Well, to be accurate, I’ve got a fair idea of WHAT is in it but I’m not sure how MUCH.

Stirring during the night used to involve me rolling onto my back and emptying whatever might happen to be in my bladder.  This is no longer necessary as it happens automatically.

Stirring during the night now involves a surreptitious grope beneath the covers to ensure that I haven’t leaked into my waterproof terry-lined trainers (my overnight nappy insurance policy).  I’m not entirely sure what the point of this is.  What would I do if I HAVE leaked into my trainers?  Unleak?  Perhaps at the back of my mind is the idea that I could spend the balance of the night in sleeplessness so I could manage further wetting events actively and avoid wet sheets.  Mostly though I just fall back asleep.

It was 5am this morning.  The clock radio had gone off so that my beloved could simultaneously wake me two hours before I needed to and haul herself off to the gym to make herself less happy.  As the radio news-reader blathered on about the latest COVID scores and the Taliban’s implausible new interests in peace and feminism, I’d automatically slipped a finger under the legging of my plastic pants to discover sopping wet toweling.  Oops.  I immediately slipped a finger on my other hand under the plastic pant elastic at my other leg to survey the magnitude of the tragedy only to discover identically-soaked toweling.

Oops again… It was ALL wet under my plastic pants down there. 100% soggy.

Then I remembered I was wearing a pinned, folded cloth nappy, NOT a disposable and therefore sodden terry toweling in the morning should be considered par for the course.

Thusly, in the wee hours, laying in wee, I thought about my semi-wakeful nappy check and those various other habits that have emerged to make life in nappies a bit safer.  I reflected upon this for a few more minutes until my beloved arose, I could turn the doom-report on the radio off and fall back asleep to marinate a bit longer in a spectacularly, comfortably warm and wet nappy that I had no recollection of peeing in anyway.

[BabyJilly_S]

I am not as far as your good self on this journey but I feel you on the first two of these for sure  

Having started the odd day back in work in the office, towards the end of the day I was thinking about how I must look when walking with my rather full megamax and my hand was going back to my thigh on much more than one occasion.

The others, whilst I have woke up worried I've leaked it hasn't become a thing yet. When I am in bed I generally sleep on my back luckily enough so don't have the side leak issue very often. When it did, the plastic pants were up to the job... 

 

[oznl]

Too much red wine on Saturday night.  It started out as a civilised drinkie with my beloved at 6pm, followed by another, and another and another and before you know it, we’re playing Adam and the Ants’ seminal work “Ant Music” far too loudly on my rather powerful audiophile-class stereo system with my beloved loudly and enthusiastically singing along whilst upstairs, teenagers rage in silence.

It’s a strange mood in this part of the world.  Most of the country is in lockdown in a typically Australian Government jackbooted response to what is by global standards, miniscule numbers of cases.  Irrespective of the army on the streets and police-enforced curfews, the Delta-variant COVID genie stubbornly refuses to go back into the bottle and most of the population are gradually realising that their draconian repression will ultimately be for naught.   Things are going to get worse before they get better.

A half-drunk 1980s musical dross concert in one’s lounge doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

Things calmed down a bit after dinner but the wine continued to flow.  Wisely, she went to be fairly early.  Unwisely, I decided to remain up for a while only to fall asleep in the chair in front of YouTube on the TV.

YouTube left unattended has a habit of spiraling out of control with one’s preferences.  I think I’ve largely solved the issue of persistent adult nappy ads appearing, having successfully extricated my ABDL internet presence from my everyday one but the YouTube algorithm, oblivious to the fact that YouTube’s viewer is in fact, snoring in an armchair, persists in extrapolating video search preferences based on the assumption “If he watched that, he’ll probably watch THIS”.

Thusly I woke in the chair just before midnight, wondering where I was and why I was watching Teslas being raced around the Nürburgring.

I can’t honestly recall the state of my nappy but the evidence is that I successfully located and donned my terry-lined plastic pants and pyjamas before relocating my sleep session to the more traditional location of my bed.

The next morning I pulled up fairly well.  It was my beloved’s turn to make the coffee and I luxuriated in bed listening to the morning’s doom report on the radio.

Annoyingly, it seemed that I’d largely wasted a perfectly good BetterDry having hardly used it at all, something I put down to warm weather, outdoor work and insufficient hydration the previous day.  I could have used something cheaper, like an old Molicare and gotten by.  I always regret under-using a nappy.   There’d also been an incredibly minor leak, an inch or so of the top elastic of my waterproofs was slightly damp.  I must have wet a little bit at least, but at an awkward angle.  It was no biggie, the bed and my pyjamas were perfectly dry.

We all have to get up, even on Sundays.  Hauling myself into the bathroom for my morning rinse and change, I pulled down my plastic pants.  I was surprised to see that my “wasted” BetterDry was bloated and yellowish.  Undoing the tapes, it slid to the floor of its own accord, landing with a distinct “thud”.

It was completely drenched.  Every square centimeter of padding was wet and yellow.  The tiny leak at the top was nothing to do with “the angle of the dangle”: it was a nappy that had run out of absorption. 

Ever the amateur scientist, I weighed it.  It was carrying nearly 1.8 liters of pee!

Although it had clearly seen multiple and protracted pee episodes, I couldn’t recall ANY of them.  I couldn’t remember using it the night before to any extent, let alone again in bed.  I don’t even remember feeling wet when I woke.  The first clue was that my pants were heavy when I got up.

People have asked me “What’s it like being a bed wetter?”.  Well, it’s like that. 

[ozziebee]

This is what I like about your updates.

 

In one paragraph you have me convinced that your Betterdry is, well, dry.  A total waste of a perfectly good nappy. 

 

The next paragraph, the reality of the situation is laid bare - a wrecked nappy, beyond its service life. 

 

Excellent updates!

[Stroller]

On 9/2/2021 at 9:20 AM, oznl said:

The “Cowboy stance”:  If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.  If it just walks like a duck, it might be a cowboy, or in nappies, or even a cowboy in nappies (double points for this). 

When I take Binky for his walk, some parts of the path are just a narrow track a few inches wide in the grass.  Back in my underpanted days I'd walk along here quite naturally, putting one foot in front of the other.  These days I'm in a thick cloth nappy, and that narrow path no longer works for me.  My two feet each need their own path, about a foot apart.

[oznl]

A fairly ordinary week in all.  I thought I had a “proper” job landed.  I’d gotten through to an interview, the interview had gone exceedingly well (and for a long time) and had culminated in a director giving me a tour of my potential workplace.  It was a permanent part time position that involved a combination of simple workshop repairs and field equipment drop off and pick up for disabled patient technology.  A near perfect “transition to retirement” role that would have kept the fiscal lights on for a few years without the stress, travel and constant diet of lay-offs I’d endured in my people management role at a global corporation.

This made it sting all the more when, after a couple of days delay, they phoned me to tell me that I was the “runner up” but not the winner since they’d found somebody with more relevant prior experience.

I slumped back quite sharply into despair, penury and the insecurity of my unprofitable gig economy contracting “job”…

There was a moment when, sitting in my car, half way through a 250km run of gigs that promised to generate less pay then I would incur in travel expenses, in a damp nappy that I couldn’t even remember wetting, picking at an unappetising McLunch that was only there because I’d already skipped breakfast before realising that the cost of it would probably consume my days profit when everything seemed infinitely black and pointless.  The gorgeous sub-tropical beaches and palms I was surrounded by were lost upon me. How sad must I look?  How had things come to this?

Some degree of misery must have sneaked out the day prior: my beloved was pinging me every few minutes, presumably to check that I hadn’t just popped down to one of those golden-sand beaches to pull a wave over my head and call it a day.

That missed job was I think one that I not only would have been good at but would have enjoyed and been useful to people.

Anyhow.  We carry on.  In my case, padded...

To cope with the operational demands of the new role I’d fully (and incorrectly) expected to get, I’d earlier decided to experiment with some new day nappies.  My boosted Abena L4 are comfortable and wick excellently but are clearly designed for wearers gasping their last whilst laying on a trolley in a nursing home.  Physical activity (such as constantly getting in and out of my car) was exacerbating the Abena propensity for stretch and sag.  By lunchtime, it was always a humid battle between elastic and gravity in my underwear.

A few days earlier I’d called in and consulted with Dr Diaper at Littles Downunder as his shop was fairly close to a gig job I was doing that day anyhow.

I needed a capacious nappy that would comfortably last 10 – 12 hours and was tough.   So tough that it might have high-vis stripes on it, swear, smoke and drive a truck.  Ideally, it should also (in contrast to the otherwise-excellent BetterDry), NOT look like I was wearing a sheep by the end of the day.

His prescription was the Rearz polysyllabic-named “Incontrol Elite Hybrid”: a nappy I’ve tried before and, to save my typing fingers, renamed “Barry” for the purposes of journalistic endeavour.  I remember not being stunned with Barry the first time around but I’d been trying Barry as a side-sleeper night nappy and not a day one.  I bought another pack to give them another go.  Barry is simply a Rearz “Barnyard” nappy with the nursery print deleted: an omission that in addition to making them (slightly) cheaper, might also stop my beloved from attempting to report me to the local police.

Dr Diaper also gave me a couple of freebie “Incontrol Essential” nappies to try as he said “people have given me really good reviews on them!”.

I gazed upon their Tinkerbell-like-slenderness dubiously:  “how much do they hold?” I asked.  “I don’t know!” he replied cheerfully.

Well, it wasn’t like they were costing me anything.  I thanked him and promised to try them out.

Thusly, “Barry” the de-badged Barnyard was pressed into service a couple of days later on my fairly miserable 250km job run down at the Gold Coast, about 100km south of where I lived.  The day was long, started early and involved a LOT of climbing in and out of my car.

Leveraging the learnings of another year in nappies, this time I made sure that the top front of Barry was pulled north and held in place by my plastic pants elastic band.  I’ve had prior experience with the Barnyard-style product whereby it “flips down” at the top of my crotch after time to expose wet padding to my outerwear.

Thusly managed, Barry performed rather well although noisily.  Even under my plastic pants and compression pant I could hear faint crunching.  I wasn’t too worried though.  I very much doubt Joe Public would have jumped to any conclusions and I note that Barry tends to shut up a bit as he gets warmer and wetter across the day.

Barry proved comfortable both dry and wet as well as being efficacious.   The Tarzan-grip of Barry’s hook and loop fasteners held him taught in place as he gained weight through the day and his plastic backing prevented sagging.  It was definitely a more comfortable experience than the Abena L4 and I never once had to perform my “Damn you gravity!” manoeuvre that by the end of the day, was a 10 minute interval task with soaked Abenas.

Wisely, I decided to try the svelte Rearz InControl “Essentials” at home where I had ready access to a mop and alternate clothing.

They were also certainly comfortable.  Lacking Barry’s re-sealable hook and loop, their tape-and-landing-zone design was still adequate and their plastic backed construction again avoided Abena-style sagging under use.

They were also comfortable when wet but differently so.  Having donned them, it felt like I was wetting my pants. This was fair enough.  I WAS wetting my pants but I’ve grown used to modern adult nappies that can tell convincing lies to their wearers about what is happening inside them.  The wetness in an adult disposable nappy tends to be transient.  Not so with the “Essentials”.  It felt like I was sitting in a sitz-bath which is interesting because I’ve never done that.  It’s not unpleasant, indeed, for those people who enjoy recreational pants-wetting or a spot of watersports, I imagine this would be rather pleasant but I expect that for somebody marinating in a nursing home, it may prove distressing.

Nevertheless they were comfortable enough in a warm, wet kind of way and I went about my day.

Before long however, my misgivings about their capacity precipitated upon my study chair.  The general feeling of wetness in my underwear had disguised events for some time but at about 4pm, 2 hours shy of my scheduled nappy change, upon standing I immediately felt the chilly sensations of evaporative cooling as the seat of my nylon shorts stuck wetly to the back of my thighs.  A payload of 1.5 litres over the course of the day had comprehensively overwhelmed their absorptive capacity triggering major press-out leaks at the rear of both leggings.   Overwhelming my plastic pants, the safety-towel on my office chair took one for the team.

With a unit cost nearly 10% higher than the far-more-trustworthy BetterDry and a capacity that is demonstrably unequal to my “2-super-nappy-per-day” diet, there’s just no reason to add the “Essentials” to my arsenal.  If you enjoy the sensation of pants-wetting however, these might prove a winner.

Barry the bare-painted Barnyard however proved an excellent, tough day nappy and I mourn the loss of a job opportunity that could have readily funded him as a more permanent member of my support team.  I may yet lash out and buy a case of Barry to use on such “long haul” gig work days even though the cost of the nappies would even further erode the pitiful compensation on offer.  It was so nice to not have to fight gravity even if I do sound a bit like I’m walking around with a packet of crisps in my pocket.

[BabyJilly_S]

Sorry to hear about the job, hopefully something will present itself sooner rather than later....

As for the "crinkle" you have given me a splendid idea. I am literally going to walk around with an empty crisp packet available. If someone mentions the noise - VOILA !! pull out the crisp packet  

(Oh "chips" I guess for our erstwhile American friends)

[Little Sherri]

57 minutes ago, oznl said:

Barry the bare-painted Barnyard however proved an excellent, tough day nappy and I mourn the loss of a job opportunity that could have readily funded him as a more permanent member of my support team.  I may yet lash out and buy a case of Barry to use on such “long haul” gig work days even though the cost of the nappies would even further erode the pitiful compensation on offer.  It was so nice to not have to fight gravity even if I do sound a bit like I’m walking around with a packet of crisps in my pocket.

My condolences on your not getting the gig, but, maybe its stolen promise can act as a heading on your career compass. There must be other companies and other services that do similar things? 

I enjoyed reading your Rearz reviews - I have both the Essential and the Elite Hybrid in my arsenal. The Essential is indeed a daytrip diaper - slim, comfortable, and good for a few hours, they will neither give you away, nor heroically save you from a miscalculation. The Elite, on the other hand, is a 5-tonne truck of a diaper. I like them a lot and I plan to integrate more of them into my repertoire. I had moved away from them over the past 18 months, because with everyone home, all the time, I found that they got too large to wear with any subtlety by the end of the day, leaving me looking a bit like I had a dead raccoon stuffed into my shorts. Not as much as the BetterDry, as you point out, but, still notable. I'm a trouser size below you, I think, and straddle the demarcation line between medium and large in most products. I had some medium Elite's, and they worked well but were quite snug around the legs and maybe a bit low-hanging up front, whereas the larges fit me very comfortably, and offer immense range, but with abuse, they get out of scale for my figure (as if anyone would ever use that term...). 

Now that the kids are back in school for a bit (until Delta calls a halt to the festivities), I can go to bed in a big diaper, and then wear it through most of the day, with the only danger being eye-rolls from my spouse. So, Megamax's and Elite Hybrids once again have a place on the team. 

28 minutes ago, BabyJilly_S said:

As for the "crinkle" you have given me a splendid idea. I am literally going to walk around with an empty crisp packet available. If someone mentions the noise - VOILA !! pull out the crisp packet  

I used to to this when I first started wearing plastic diapers around other people - not a crisps ("chip" in Canadian lingo) packet, but a crinkly shopping bag that I would leave hanging conspicuously out of a pocket, for the purposes of picking up the dog's leavings. Eventually I realized that nobody could hear my diaper whispering except me. Or so I thought - my wife recently noted the silence of an InControl Active Air I was test-driving, and hinted that maybe cloth-backed diapers might be a more discrete option, which has thrown a bucket of cold water on my confidence that nobody ever hears or notices anything emanating from down under (sorry, @oznl...)

[DiaperboyEddie12]

6 hours ago, oznl said:

A fairly ordinary week in all.  I thought I had a “proper” job landed.  I’d gotten through to an interview, the interview had gone exceedingly well (and for a long time) and had culminated in a director giving me a tour of my potential workplace.  It was a permanent part time position that involved a combination of simple workshop repairs and field equipment drop off and pick up for disabled patient technology.  A near perfect “transition to retirement” role that would have kept the fiscal lights on for a few years without the stress, travel and constant diet of lay-offs I’d endured in my people management role at a global corporation.

This made it sting all the more when, after a couple of days delay, they phoned me to tell me that I was the “runner up” but not the winner since they’d found somebody with more relevant prior experience.

I slumped back quite sharply into despair, penury and the insecurity of my unprofitable gig economy contracting “job”…

There was a moment when, sitting in my car, half way through a 250km run of gigs that promised to generate less pay then I would incur in travel expenses, in a damp nappy that I couldn’t even remember wetting, picking at an unappetising McLunch that was only there because I’d already skipped breakfast before realising that the cost of it would probably consume my days profit when everything seemed infinitely black and pointless.  The gorgeous sub-tropical beaches and palms I was surrounded by were lost upon me. How sad must I look?  How had things come to this?

Some degree of misery must have sneaked out the day prior: my beloved was pinging me every few minutes, presumably to check that I hadn’t just popped down to one of those golden-sand beaches to pull a wave over my head and call it a day.

That missed job was I think one that I not only would have been good at but would have enjoyed and been useful to people.

Anyhow.  We carry on.  In my case, padded...

To cope with the operational demands of the new role I’d fully (and incorrectly) expected to get, I’d earlier decided to experiment with some new day nappies.  My boosted Abena L4 are comfortable and wick excellently but are clearly designed for wearers gasping their last whilst laying on a trolley in a nursing home.  Physical activity (such as constantly getting in and out of my car) was exacerbating the Abena propensity for stretch and sag.  By lunchtime, it was always a humid battle between elastic and gravity in my underwear.

A few days earlier I’d called in and consulted with Dr Diaper at Littles Downunder as his shop was fairly close to a gig job I was doing that day anyhow.

I needed a capacious nappy that would comfortably last 10 – 12 hours and was tough.   So tough that it might have high-vis stripes on it, swear, smoke and drive a truck.  Ideally, it should also (in contrast to the otherwise-excellent BetterDry), NOT look like I was wearing a sheep by the end of the day.

His prescription was the Rearz polysyllabic-named “Incontrol Elite Hybrid”: a nappy I’ve tried before and, to save my typing fingers, renamed “Barry” for the purposes of journalistic endeavour.  I remember not being stunned with Barry the first time around but I’d been trying Barry as a side-sleeper night nappy and not a day one.  I bought another pack to give them another go.  Barry is simply a Rearz “Barnyard” nappy with the nursery print deleted: an omission that in addition to making them (slightly) cheaper, might also stop my beloved from attempting to report me to the local police.

Dr Diaper also gave me a couple of freebie “Incontrol Essential” nappies to try as he said “people have given me really good reviews on them!”.

I gazed upon their Tinkerbell-like-slenderness dubiously:  “how much do they hold?” I asked.  “I don’t know!” he replied cheerfully.

Well, it wasn’t like they were costing me anything.  I thanked him and promised to try them out.

Thusly, “Barry” the de-badged Barnyard was pressed into service a couple of days later on my fairly miserable 250km job run down at the Gold Coast, about 100km south of where I lived.  The day was long, started early and involved a LOT of climbing in and out of my car.

Leveraging the learnings of another year in nappies, this time I made sure that the top front of Barry was pulled north and held in place by my plastic pants elastic band.  I’ve had prior experience with the Barnyard-style product whereby it “flips down” at the top of my crotch after time to expose wet padding to my outerwear.

Thusly managed, Barry performed rather well although noisily.  Even under my plastic pants and compression pant I could hear faint crunching.  I wasn’t too worried though.  I very much doubt Joe Public would have jumped to any conclusions and I note that Barry tends to shut up a bit as he gets warmer and wetter across the day.

Barry proved comfortable both dry and wet as well as being efficacious.   The Tarzan-grip of Barry’s hook and loop fasteners held him taught in place as he gained weight through the day and his plastic backing prevented sagging.  It was definitely a more comfortable experience than the Abena L4 and I never once had to perform my “Damn you gravity!” manoeuvre that by the end of the day, was a 10 minute interval task with soaked Abenas.

Wisely, I decided to try the svelte Rearz InControl “Essentials” at home where I had ready access to a mop and alternate clothing.

They were also certainly comfortable.  Lacking Barry’s re-sealable hook and loop, their tape-and-landing-zone design was still adequate and their plastic backed construction again avoided Abena-style sagging under use.

They were also comfortable when wet but differently so.  Having donned them, it felt like I was wetting my pants. This was fair enough.  I WAS wetting my pants but I’ve grown used to modern adult nappies that can tell convincing lies to their wearers about what is happening inside them.  The wetness in an adult disposable nappy tends to be transient.  Not so with the “Essentials”.  It felt like I was sitting in a sitz-bath which is interesting because I’ve never done that.  It’s not unpleasant, indeed, for those people who enjoy recreational pants-wetting or a spot of watersports, I imagine this would be rather pleasant but I expect that for somebody marinating in a nursing home, it may prove distressing.

Nevertheless they were comfortable enough in a warm, wet kind of way and I went about my day.

Before long however, my misgivings about their capacity precipitated upon my study chair.  The general feeling of wetness in my underwear had disguised events for some time but at about 4pm, 2 hours shy of my scheduled nappy change, upon standing I immediately felt the chilly sensations of evaporative cooling as the seat of my nylon shorts stuck wetly to the back of my thighs.  A payload of 1.5 litres over the course of the day had comprehensively overwhelmed their absorptive capacity triggering major press-out leaks at the rear of both leggings.   Overwhelming my plastic pants, the safety-towel on my office chair took one for the team.

With a unit cost nearly 10% higher than the far-more-trustworthy BetterDry and a capacity that is demonstrably unequal to my “2-super-nappy-per-day” diet, there’s just no reason to add the “Essentials” to my arsenal.  If you enjoy the sensation of pants-wetting however, these might prove a winner.

Barry the bare-painted Barnyard however proved an excellent, tough day nappy and I mourn the loss of a job opportunity that could have readily funded him as a more permanent member of my support team.  I may yet lash out and buy a case of Barry to use on such “long haul” gig work days even though the cost of the nappies would even further erode the pitiful compensation on offer.  It was so nice to not have to fight gravity even if I do sound a bit like I’m walking around with a packet of crisps in my pocket.

@oznl I’m sort to hear about your job outlook.  You will find something soon.

I personally quit my job of 4 years last week. I gavdd we get my 2 weeks notice.  And on September 18th I’m out of there.  I will be doing Uber Eats and door dash.

plus I have an online business as well so I do make money.  Though to be free from a negative work environment will do me good.

[oznl]

An annual specialist medical appointment rolled around this week.

This is the real deal, involving stripping down to underwear to lay under very-bright-lights and be examined carefully by a specialist whose decades of often-brutal post-graduate training at the hands of more-knowledgeable superiors has eroded away all of his diplomacy and small talk skills. 

“Bedside manner” is something for general practitioners.

So, again I squibbed it and went sans-nappy.  I’d figured that at most, I would be about two hours without my safety-pants and that should be do-able.

In case it wasn’t, I stuffed an Abriform booster pad down the front of my sole remaining pair of disintegrating underpants after my morning nappy change and shower.  This could be safely removed in the car-park, limiting my window-of-exposure down to about one hour.

Once again, I experienced the novel “empty pants” sensation that nappy-free clothing entails.  Whilst not exactly about to star in any modelling jobs, I also noticed that without my nappy, it was nearly impossible to keep my pants up.  I will need to cut another notch in my belt.  Just 11 more extra notches and I might pass for “thin”.  There was something attractive about that light and airy feeling down there but it passed.

The consultation was a success for me (another year free from terminal body-rust) and for my specialist (a very healthy fee).

I drove on to the chemist to get some more of my rest-of-life drugs and then went home.

My continence really wasn’t a problem.  I was VERY aware that I was “unattired” and although I felt rusty signals that I knew I’d need to deal with very soon (it had been 90 minutes since I’d last peed), there was no danger of disgracing myself on the shop floor.

As I was returning home, I picked up an unexpected job via text message for my ludicrously-underpaid-gig-economy “employment”.  I’d need to get back into the car and head out 30km to a site for a couple of hours work that would, after travel expenses, earn me as a contractor somewhat less than I might earn stacking shelves in a supermarket.

I surveyed my nappy-arsenal.  The remaining freebie “Rearz Essential” beckoned but I needed a pee NOW!

I decided that if I did something truly radical, like pee in a toilet, the light-weight Rearz Essential might actually hold up for the balance of the day.

So, in a disruption to a more than 2.5 year habit, I went to the bathroom to pee in a toilet.

It took a fair while to get the job done.  Paradoxically, at first the flow didn’t seem to want to start and then, once started, was slow and didn’t seem to want to cleanly finish (I think I dripped the last of it into my nappy).  It’s hard to say though how much of this is because of nappy-habituation versus how much of it might be simply me noticing how much vengeance Father Time has wreaked on my aging middle-aged-male body in the intervening years.  I even tried to stop the flow.  A (what I thought was monumental) effort DID indeed stop the flow: for about 1 second before downstairs systems overrode my instructions.  THAT trick simply does not work anymore.  If I was to have started wetting my pants at the chemist, there probably wasn’t going to be much I could do about it beyond trying to find a secluded place to finish before fleeing and finding a new chemist.

The thing was though that despite nearly 1000 days of 24/7 nappy use (it was actually day 967), I STILL had rusty-but-usable continence.  This revelation provoked a weird alloy of relief and disappointment.

If I wanted a solid, physiological excuse to remain in nappies for the rest of my life, how long would it take?

There’s no doubt that I’m a bedwetter now but I’m suspecting that that TOO is NOT incontinence.  It’s a learned habit (which could therefore be presumably unlearned).

The last-minute-gig became the job from hell and took six hours (I was paid for 2).  It was mainly outside in heat.  The Rearz Essential coped effortlessly with the limited action it saw.

Later, as a kind of bonus gesture, my beloved found a nappy delivery docket floating freely in our wheelie bin where I’d tossed it.  Clearly dissatisfied by my lack of subterfuge, she balled it up and wedged it under the windscreen wiper on my car (parked adjacent to the bin) in one of her old-school micro-aggressions that I’d have told you a week earlier had largely disappeared.

Sometimes it really does seem that things haven’t moved much since 2019.