Oops!....I Did It Again

Trading places

Last night I hit yet another milestone. Or perhaps a new low, depending on your viewpoint.

It was a typical evening and I was casually going about my routine. I disrobed, preparing to shower, when out of the blue, a strong urge to defecate seized me. I quickly re-robed and made the 10-yard dash to the latrine. A bit close for comfort, but crisis averted.

I ambled back into the house and started showering, convinced that the last five minutes was just a single speed bump in otherwise smooth night.  Just moments after I finished rinsing my hair, a sudden, unmistakable feeling returned. It’s back for revenge.

Bent over in discomfort, I weighed possible options. I was naked and wet. Mr. Poo was not going to wait for me to find clothes, a headlamp, and make it to the latrine. Try again.

No time to find a plastic bag (that’s a story for another post, I promise). Plus, all of the bags are under the cot. Bending over at this critical juncture would be asking for a wall painting that would surely clash with our current decoration. The wife wouldn’t be pleased. Try again.

I was quickly running out of time and options. I looked around the room, grasping for ideas. What now!? My eyes came to rest upon the cat’s litter box. Hmm…

If it’s good enough for the cat, it’s good enough for me, right? Given Mr. Poo’s insistence, this was truly the only option. So I squatted over the sand, and let ‘er go. The first test squirt hit the floor, so I quickly adjusted the angle of my hips. The second, much larger release was an absolute success - nothing but sand.

Proportionally, however, I could have used a much larger litter box. Even with two well-fed cats we may change the litter box once a week. My one episode filled the damn thing. I surveyed the damage, hoping the cats didn’t have any of their own business to attend to – this litter box was officially closed for cleaning. I’ve clogged or destroyed many toilets in my day, but this was the first time I’d shut down a sandbox.

I stepped one foot to my right and finished showering. Weird… but handy. Clean up could wait until morning.

I dread changing the litter box on a normal day, but cleaning up an over-filled box of my own feces? Not the way to start the day. I considered leaving it there, blaming the cats, and once my wife returned home, nicely reminding her that it was her turn to change the litter box.  But being the gentleman I am, I faced the music. Husband of the Year nominee, perhaps?

I did some research for this post on the internet and I’m a little disappointed. Apparently, I’m not the first person to defecate into a litter box. A teenager did it as a party trick. He also taped it and posted it on YouTube. Not to be outdone, I’m posting a photo of my aftermath. Scroll down to see it, if you dare.

Normally, this post should go up on the “other” blog, since it relates directly to Peace Corps service. But I’m sure my better half is going to veto it. If you think it belongs alongside my other “gems” let her know!

Warning: you know you’re scrolling to a photo of poop, right?

Continue at your own risk.

You have been warned.

Moments after...