(sigh)....shit!

And so the final day of my time on the farm had arrived. It was a cool fog covered morning in May, and the market was bustling in Rouffignac, but the coffee I had earlier that morning was strong, and well...something had to be done. Don't cringe yet, I promise nothing graphic, but as you can imagine my first thought was, 'I will find a bathroom around here somewhere and all will be well with the world.' However, when I did find the WC as it were, I was puzzled when I discovered this strange device in the room where a seat should be. Is this a joke, some kind of inititation to the farmers life? I had no idea but let me tell you I was not even sure if I was in the right place, so I checked the other stalls and there were urinals. 'Hmmm! Nothing strange there,' I assured myself. So I walked back to the other side. SHIT!!! And so I began to think, all the while my bowels turning knots and my patience withering by the minute. Here I was, standing in kimbo staring at a hole in the ground. I took a closer look, and found there were little foot sized parts just about hip distance apart in the front of the hole. Could they be serious? Where am I supposed to sit? Looking at the walls I saw no handle-bars, no notching to get a grip, nothing!!!!! And so, with years of athletics behind me, no pun intended, I figured I could squat for a few minutes without having too much trouble.


Let me tell you that it was not my legs I was worring about, not directly at least. The pants dropped and things began as usual except there was nothing to support me if I made that tragic fall. And so with one eye on the bullseye, things began to happen, and they happened fast. Too fast, and I found my knees getting weak, each movent of this odorous opus was taking more and more out of me, finally I had to resort to attempting to stick my hands to the walls. Everytime I thought it was over, I was too wrong, and because of the morning dew (seriously not trying to make this many puns) the walls were slick with condensation causing my position to slip ever so slowly and painfully southward towards the awful pit of despair to my rear! And so in a last ditch effort, I thrust my arms around the toilet paper holder, and with my shoulder dug into the right wall, balanced for the final notes. A sigh of relief came over me, finally, the dennemont come and I was prepared for a relaxing finish. I reached for the paper, and it felt light. Too light, and sure enough, with a soft tug, the remaining 5 squares fell limp in my grip. I was battered but not beaten, and so naked from the waist and with jeans wrapped neatly around my ankles, I waddled to the next stall and shut the door. Using my jeans as an anchor? i held the bunched up bit in between my feet as a saftey robe and called my self on-belay to begin clean-up.

It was an awful and jarring experience, I was wiped out and my thighs were burning. I used to think the french were just snotty, but now I know, its contempt they hold for us, those who shit sitting down.