Yesterday was . . . something. And there was poop. Not (too) gross, but . . .
So how to explain yesterday and the recurring poop motif without turning into an early-80's teen gross-out comedy, probably starring Bill Murray?
Okay, without getting into more TMI than is strictly necessary, I am fairly regular in that way. Time, color, and consistency. But yesterday morning was different and it got weird and ultimately ended with a second quickie shower and change of undies -- all of which made me a few minutes late for work. Enough said.
That was that first poop incident. And fortunately the only one which involved something coming out of my butt.
Next, using the bathroom at work . . . Let me back up, just for a brief explanation. We're a small staff, but with the pandemic we feel we're just too many people sharing one bathroom. It's not as much an issue now that all eight of us are vaccinated and we're gradually getting boostered, too. But we've annexed what used to be the "family" bathroom for patrons as a second staff bathroom. (There are still the regular men's and women's restrooms for patrons, so we're not making people hold it til they get home or go in the bushes.) There are three of us who use the annexed bathroom.
Yesterday I was the first to use it. (I often am. Not a brag. It's just that I have the hour commute and even if I pee before I leave home I have to pee as soon as I get to work. My bladder is definitely not plus size.) So I went in and I didn't have my glasses on (because why wear the thing I spent hundreds of dollars on so I can see?) and there was a dark brown kind of tubey thing, maybe 3"-4" long, on the floor near the door. And my brain froze for a few seconds. Then I knew it was a rubber door wedge. I didn't investigate closely, but I know that's what it was. I don't know why it was. There's not normally (or ever) a doorstop in that room. But doorstop is better than, well, alternatives.
And then I got up in the middle of the night to pee (because peeing is a big chunk of my life). And I noticed the mat in front of the litter box was folded (which is really impressive for little paws without thumbs). Torii used to run to the mat when she had to puke, but then I started braggin' on her so she stopped because, you know, cat. I thought she forgot she wasn't doing that anymore. And that's what as I thought as I unfolded the mat and looked at the blobs and tore off a paper towel and picked up the biggest blob and
YECCHHH
So then I'm holding a paper towel smeared with basically a smaller version of what I'd started the morning with. And I can't just toss into the litter box because it definitely isn't solid enough and I can't throw it away because the smell would gradually seep out of the trash can and ooze through the house and I don't want to flush it because the pipes are old and sometimes get snarky about triple-ply tp. So I flushed it because at 2 am that was the best of no options.
And as I was mentally composing this post this morning I thought, "Wednesday will be better than Tuesday if only because it won't be all about poop."
p.s. I was wrong. Okay, not exactly wrong. There's been no unusual or unplanned poop events, so that is a big bonus over yesterday. But I nearly died because people don't read signs or read them but decide the signs apply only to other people. Or something.
As I've explained (i.e. whined) before, about half of my commute is on a four-lane interstate and half is on two-lane (more like one and a half in places) windy hilly country backroads. Plus: I get to see miniature goats and sheep and alpacas. Minus: everything else about it.
There's an especially narrow windy bit which cuts through a hillside. So on one side of the road there's maybe 6" of weedy stones then a wall of rock. There's a guardrail and sharp drop on the other side. And several sharp snakey curves. And it's a steep incline (or decline when I'm going to work). And as I went down and around the first sharp curve I met a track-trailer coming up. And then I got to back up around that curve, hoping no one was coming down behind me because they wouldn't see me until are two cars were one. And the semi driver came up along side me at about the same speed (he clearly wanted to go faster; I wanted to survive this debacle he made.) His driver's door nearly touched my driver side mirror the whole way back up to a straighter bit with no guard rail fencing him in. And he sped up and continued on toward the signs which, from the other direction, say 'NO SEMI'S BEYOND THIS POINT" because it isn't freakin' safe for large vehicles on this narrow hilly windy twisty cow path of a road.
Hopefully today's theme isn't ridiculous ways to die because people are idiots.
p.p.s. I don't know how that semi came under the trestle bridge (which is of course on a sharp curve). I really don't know how he got to where we met at all. But he didn't seem like mysterious ghost semi so much as obnoxious asshole. (I know the driver is the asshole, not the truck (probably), but I'm not dealing with complicated sentence structure today. Not after surviving the asshole semi.
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