No sooner had I finished scrubbing the downstairs toilet yesterday when I heard the doorbell ring. It was one of our sweat-soaked, burly orchard workers and he grunted, "Can I use the bathroom?" I had no choice but to oblige. When you gotta go, you gotta go, right? As soon as he stepped into the washroom he turned the fan on full blast. That would have been my signal that some serious business was being tended to in our facilities. He did his deed then left, making sure to leave the fan running even after his exit. After a few hours I went downstairs to assess the damage. I cautiously opened the door, flicked off the fan switch, then nearly barfed all over myself. It smelled as though some sort of moderately sized mammal had crawled up our sewer line, had fierce diarrhea, then curled up to die in its own mess of feces in our toilet bowl.
And this was a few hours post-dump.
Imagine my delight when the doorbell rang again this morning and the same gruesome pooper was staring at me asking if he could use the bathroom again.
Really, this is not the way it ought to be.
I understand that everyone poops. It’s gross but it’s one of the things that unites humanity.
What I don’t appreciate is having someone save up a week’s worth of intestinal build-up then drop it in my house.
Maybe the rotting odour of someone else’s poop induces labour.
Really, I should be thankful for such blessings.
12 Comments
Maybe you need to invest in seperate potties for the workers. That would make me want to woof my cookies.
Oh my goodness. I can’t get over that. Perhaps you shall invest in porta-poties from now on!
Maybe you could invest in a portapotty for the orchard workers. Or you could dig a hole for them in a far-away corner of the orchard so they could help make the apples grow.
“Woof my cookies” is my new favorite saying.
Hopefully it does induce labor. I am praying that you do get your ealry or at least on time delivery, but if Baby Brown does decide to come late, take those few extra days to sleep and scrapbook. You probably won’t be able to do either when the baby comes. This is not a diss. I actually miss nursing Kynan every few hours. I know it is hard to believe, but I feel like I hardly see him any more. Can yo imagine when he is a teenager.
Now maybe you know what kind of inhumane torture I silently withstood for some 18 odd years. Haha just kidding… but no really, you stunk.
Next time the doorbell rings, don’t answer it and hide in the closet. :)
hahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Sick. A potty in the workshop is definitely a NECESSITY!
Tell Steve to hurry up and come get our old toilet that we saved for him! It’s sitting outside (classy, I know)
:)
UGH!!! The nerve… I can totally understand once, if you are having major problems… but a second time!? Call in sick! or ask to go home early.
Gracious, this certainly has brought out a lot of comments! I think even your favorite bro made a contribution.
You are a farmers’ wife, living in the country, so get an old fashioned country style out-house. Worked for your mom & I.
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