Today was the day. I bought some new litter boxes for the cat and dumped the old ones in a big black industrial plastic bag and swept up all the stray litter below the old box, kicking up dust and choking me out in the unfinished bowels of that part of the basement where nobody goes. I tied the thing up and hoisted it over my shoulder like the most disappointing santa and heaved the thing up a flight of stairs, complemented all the time by my inner monologue (who is ordinarily an asshole) what a fine example of man, cleaning up shit on Labor Day.
Opening up the top of the dumpster I was reminded that the garbage men refuse to take my individual bags of dog crap from the yard or the single diapers so foul they skipped the garbage and went straight to dumpster. They've all collected at the bottom, stewing in the mystery juice found in all dumpsters and, sitting in the sun on the 80 degree day, created a stink just like you would expect.I did what I imagine a real grown adult man would do and dumped the whole thing into a large garbage bag and sprayed the thing out and WHY ARE YOU TELLING US THIS BORING STORY?!Mellow out man, I'm getting there..
So I now have a pristine dumpster for my beautifully bagged cat crap and dog dropping and human child diaper explosions. The thing is, this bag has become incredibly heavy, which I imagine is no big deal for a man like me, muscles like a Clydesdale glistening in the stink. So I grab the top of the bag and shot put style, swung the thing around off the ground and up into the open mouth of the dumpster. I'm not as strong as I thought and the bag catches on the lip of the bin and, sliced open, spills half into the newly cleaned dumpster and half into my shoe and pant pocket, filling the holes of the microphone of the talking end of my cell phone.
I scream the word fuck as loud as I can, reflexively yanking back on the bag, and the top breaks free of the bottom, and litter and bright logs of cat shit are flung full force into my open horrified eyes and mouth. I start spitting and screaming and wiping my eyes talking in tongues and my 3 year old Amelia walks out, takes in the scene and tells me I should take a bath. I scream involuntarily spraying myself in the face point blank with the supercharged garden hose.
I have since washed myself very thoroughly and cleaned up the mess.. and am now training all to use the toilet like the good lord intended.