My earliest memory is peeing into a trashcan. I don’t know how old I was. Old enough to remember it but not old enough to remember how old I was, so maybe 3 or 4. I was in my family’s first house in Charlotte, the first house I can remember, in the corner of the living room by the hallway. I was watching television, and I really, really had to go to the bathroom but also, you know, television. This was before televisions could pause, much less move into the bathroom with you, so I was in a real bind. I guess I couldn’t make it to a commercial break, or maybe I didn’t want to miss the commercials either. A normal kid might have just peed in his pants (or gone to the bathroom), but I was clearly not your average kid. I had a plan. I could watch the show without getting yelled at for making a mess. The trashcan was sort of hidden by the end of the couch, so it seemed like the perfect place to discreetly relieve myself.