A dark, cold, snow-filled evening. A suburban mom behind the wheel of her minivan, driving her children home after an appointment across town.
Sounds pretty normal, right? Nothing out of the ordinary, for certain.
Look a bit closer perhaps.
The children chatter away in the back while the mom concentrates on avoiding traffic snarlups and red lights.
Suddenly she feels a slight itch. Not a big deal, just an annoyance really. But in a difficult, awkward place to reach - 'posterior' so to speak. She squirms slightly in her captain's chair.
But the itch doesn't go away. In fact - it begins to spread until most of the skin she's sitting on is consumed by an intensely fierce itching.
The children remain oblivious behind her as she begins a series of moves usually only seen on a gymnastics mat, attempting in vain to quell what has turned from a slight annoyance into a large disturbance. She begins to wonder if the other drivers can see inside her van and if so, what an amusing picture she must present at the moment.
A drive which, under normal circumstances, would take a maximum of oh, 20 minutes or so, suddenly stretches into hours - or so it seems - as every traffic light, every slow driver stands between this tortured mom and the relief of finally being able to soothe her itching behind.
But then - finally home. Freed from the confines of the driver's seat, she is able to regain her dignity at last. Even while cursing the dry winter air and the ineffectiveness of so-called 'moisturizing' creams and lotions.
And that, my friends, is the 'end' of that story. :)
Disclaimer: of course, the above story is purely hypothetical and any such mom would have to completely deny that any such episode ever occurred. And I'm not budging from that story!