My one fear about having a child was changing diapers. That chore hasn’t been so bad, but the fates are testing me lately. Everywhere I turn there is shit. Don’t worry, this is not one of those posts where I will be complaining, this is more just an observation about how there is caca lurking literally in every corner.
It starts with my daughter. If there were doubts about her not looking like me, her bowel movements prove we share a lineage. She poops in the morning, the night, the afternoon, and twice in the evening. And this is without eating any solid foods. Wait until I introduce her to figs and papayas.
We have a receptacle for the diapers called the Diaper Genie. It’s one of those inventions that are probably sold on late night infomercials. It’s a closed plastic garbage receptacle that has a pedal you push with your foot to throw the dirty diapers in. You can’t smell them at all. Eventually you open the receptacle and tie up the end of a plastic garbage bag holding all the dirty diapers. I’d been throwing out the bags every other day amazed at how this flimsy bag held all these diapers. But then the bag broke in our bedroom splattering dirty diapers everywhere.
But things get much worse. I go down to throw out the bag at the dumpster and in my sight line is Merlin, the homeless man who calls that alley home (so I guess he’s not really homeless) taking a grade A dump. “Sorry.” he says when he sees my disgust, but it is too late as I will have to wait until senility to get that image out of my head.
But wait, there’s more, I went to my car which I was happy to have found a nearby parking spot for late at night after only circling the block once. Unfortunately because it was night I did not notice it was underneath the shade of a leafy tree. A tree housed by birds that stained my car poopy. The windows, the roof, the doors all have more crap exposed than paint. After washing and scraping it all off, I went to the one sanctuary where I could get peace from the cause of all my stress, the bathroom.