This is a bit of writing I did before I starting the blog. I recently submitted it to the Tacoma Tribune for consideration as a guest columnist, but unfortunately was not selected. Enjoy.
Everywhere I turned the last two days I was stepping in it. I mean literally up to my ankles in pooh. I stopped by my daughter Sarah’s yesterday, after going to the dump, to get a little starter for the compost pile. The heifer was in a stall in the barn and Mercy Cow, its mother, was in the front pasture so I backed the truck into the cattle shed where these two poop machines had made generous deposits. I drove home and unloaded the treasure. It mixed well in my compost heap but I found that for the rest of the day everything smelled and tasted like pooh.
Today I went back to Sarah’s to watch the demise of their heifer, only to find myself up to my ankles in pooh. Keith (of Keith’s Custom Slaughter, Tire Store and Funeral Home) had shot the poor critter and dragged it from the stall. About twenty minutes into the removal of the beast’s leather coat it began to rain and I stepped into the stall but forgot to look down. The term “pooped” is a nautical one that refers to water coming over the gunnels of a boat and onto the deck or into the hold. I had on low cut shoes and got pooped in the stall.
I drove home to find that Larry from the septic sucking service was draining the last remains from my septic tank. Larry said it was quite full. I am guessing it was the result of my preparation for a recent colonoscopy. There is never good news when you have a septic system, so I was not surprised to hear Larry say solids had leaked into the liquid portion of the double tank. It seems there was a crack at the bottom of the wall that separates the two halves. He said he could fix it for a mere $700.00. I immediately found my shoes soiled again. He applied the defibulator all septic sucking services must carry in their trucks and when I regained consciousness he said I could fix it myself. It would entail climbing into the tank with a bucket of concrete and shoving the concrete into the void between the two tanks. Being no dummy and already finding myself unfit to associate with most of the human race, I decided to do the deed myself.
I obtained the required premixed concrete from the Home Despot. The clerk at the checkout made a funny face when I paid so I spoke to her in French. She seemed to understand completely. I got home and attempted to climb into the tank only to find the ladder I was using took up most of the room. (That’s another ways of saying my ass was too big to fit in the hole). I quickly built a skinnier ladder and climbed into the tank only to find the septic sucking service leaves about ten percent of the waste in the bottom of the tank. Its starter poop. Yea just like sourdough. Pooped again!
You have to understand I am, under some situations, quite claustrophobic. It all stems from my youth when my older brother used to torment me by holding my wrists and sitting on my chest while dripping slobber onto my forehead. Climbing into the tank took a lot of effort but the repair was successfully completed. Barbara threw away all my clothes.
When A.A. Milne wrote the adventures of Winnie the Pooh, he should have talked to me first. He would have chosen a different name for the bear.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.
Today I went back to Sarah’s to watch the demise of their heifer, only to find myself up to my ankles in pooh. Keith (of Keith’s Custom Slaughter, Tire Store and Funeral Home) had shot the poor critter and dragged it from the stall. About twenty minutes into the removal of the beast’s leather coat it began to rain and I stepped into the stall but forgot to look down. The term “pooped” is a nautical one that refers to water coming over the gunnels of a boat and onto the deck or into the hold. I had on low cut shoes and got pooped in the stall.
I drove home to find that Larry from the septic sucking service was draining the last remains from my septic tank. Larry said it was quite full. I am guessing it was the result of my preparation for a recent colonoscopy. There is never good news when you have a septic system, so I was not surprised to hear Larry say solids had leaked into the liquid portion of the double tank. It seems there was a crack at the bottom of the wall that separates the two halves. He said he could fix it for a mere $700.00. I immediately found my shoes soiled again. He applied the defibulator all septic sucking services must carry in their trucks and when I regained consciousness he said I could fix it myself. It would entail climbing into the tank with a bucket of concrete and shoving the concrete into the void between the two tanks. Being no dummy and already finding myself unfit to associate with most of the human race, I decided to do the deed myself.
I obtained the required premixed concrete from the Home Despot. The clerk at the checkout made a funny face when I paid so I spoke to her in French. She seemed to understand completely. I got home and attempted to climb into the tank only to find the ladder I was using took up most of the room. (That’s another ways of saying my ass was too big to fit in the hole). I quickly built a skinnier ladder and climbed into the tank only to find the septic sucking service leaves about ten percent of the waste in the bottom of the tank. Its starter poop. Yea just like sourdough. Pooped again!
You have to understand I am, under some situations, quite claustrophobic. It all stems from my youth when my older brother used to torment me by holding my wrists and sitting on my chest while dripping slobber onto my forehead. Climbing into the tank took a lot of effort but the repair was successfully completed. Barbara threw away all my clothes.
When A.A. Milne wrote the adventures of Winnie the Pooh, he should have talked to me first. He would have chosen a different name for the bear.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.
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