Mr. Macchiato says that one of these days he's going to come home and find my feet sticking out of the computer. I spent way too much time on the computer yesterday and really need to concentrate on other things today. Like real life stuff. Laundry. Ironing. Cleaning toilets. Dishes. And baking cookies for a Teacher Appreciation Luncheon tomorrow. We've also got bad weather moving in. I hear Mississippi has had bad weather again too. I am re-printing a post from my old blog, Laughing Always Helps, from our days in Mississippi and bad weather.
Have a great day everyone!
Years ago, while living in Mississippi, we had a veritable zoo in our home. Three dogs, two parakeets, two parrots, two hermit crabs, and seven fish. And of course, our three children. Caring for that many animals, and especially the children, often got overwhelming and I felt I was always behind the 8 ball in more ways than one.
We had a very large backyard. There was a good sized patio off of the back of the house that many windows from many rooms looked out over and a small grass area enclosed by a short brick wall. Beyond the brick wall was a large area that sloped downward ending at a fence and grouping of trees. The house sat on close to half an acre. One third of the backyard was enclosed in a wire fence that ran down one side from the house to the fence. There were no windows or doors that looked out over that area or opened up into it. To get there you had to go through the garage. It was a two car garage with a regular garage door on the front and an additional garage door on the back that opened up to a covered carport. We generally kept the gate between the two sections of yard closed, limiting the dogs to the back porch and larger part of the backyard. Managing the poo from three dogs was quite a job. Especially in an area that large and in Mississippi where the grass grew before your eyes and we often had to cut it twice a week.
One day, very like most of my days, I went out into the yard to pick up the poo. The kids weren't as good at finding all of it as I was and I wanted to do a thorough job so that Mr. Macchiato wouldn't crab about it when he went to cut the grass when he got home from work. I took a tall kitchen trash can that we kept in the garage out there with me with a bag in it and went around with our handy little pooper scooper and rake. There was a lot of poo! Once I was done, I lifted the entire trash can over the wire fence and made my way into the house to go through the garage to go get it and dispose of it in the big trash cans that we kept on the back carport. When I got into the house I was distracted by the kids fighting, not doing what they were supposed to and a call from a friend. Later that afternoon, it started raining.It rained for days. And days. And days.
I forgot about the poo. In fact, the only time I thought about the poo was when, in the middle of the night, I would remember it and be stricken with panic as I lay there in the dark wondering about it. I would always think to myself that I would go take care of that in the morning. Only in the morning, I would always forget or it would be raining too hard.
I honestly do not recall exactly how long that poo sat out there. It was a long time. One Saturday morning I left to run errands while Mr. Macchiato stayed home with the kids. The grass was knee high and it had finally stopped raining long enough to do something about it. He found the poo. Mr. Macchiato does NOT handle things like that very well. Number one, how could someone forget something like that? Number two, well he doesn't like number two. In fact, he would gag and retch something terrible when he'd try to change poopy diapers when the kids were small... to the point where I'd have to rescue him by finishing the job. However, I am still a bit suspicious about that. He could have been doing that just to get out of it.
Anyway, so I was gone and the kids were running about the neighborhood, and Mr. Macchiato found the poop soup. The trash can was full to the top and the poo had become a thick sludgey goo at the bottom. I was not there so I can only imagine his horror. He told me that he stood there staring at it, unable to comprehend just what it was and how it had gotten there. He had to put his shirt up over his nose as he gagged and lower the trash can to its side so that the watery part could drain into the yard. He certainly did not want the poop sludge to escape. I believe he said he ran from the yard retching into his shirt. He went back and somehow managed to pull the plastic liner from the can and put it into another 37 bags. He was afraid that he had unleashed some kind of disease into our yard so he then emptied and entire bottle of bleach over the spot where he had drained the poop soup. This caused a noxious green cloud to rise up over the house and envelope our entire neighborhood in a smell so horrendous that our children ran home crying only to find it was actually the source of the smell.
Not long after, I arrived home. The first words out of my mouth were, "My God what is that smell?" It was a smell that traumatized all of us and still brings on phantom gags to this day. Due to the amount of bleach that was poured on that spot, we expected that nothing would ever grow there again. We were wrong. That part of the yard grew lush and green. In fact, it grew faster than the rest of the yard proving to be a permanent memorial to the poop soup that was laid to rest there that day.