Ever since I completed my Permaculture Design Certificate earlier in the year, with all the attendant nurtured by nature philosophies, I have changed or am seeking to change a number of things in my life. A not unimportant element of these changes involve my toilet habits. (Don’t fear, what follows isn’t particularly graphic, and doesn’t involve any solids).
I was out in the garden, working on my current project (a chicken tractor – poultry locomotion being a new found area of importance to my mum), when the need to empty my bladder came upon me. Having muddy boots on gave me ample reason to stay outdoors and give my vital nutrients to a nearby tree (they do so love pee – as a future project I want to plant two trees and pee on just one of them and see what uneven prosperity flourishes). The tree I chose as the beneficiary of the day was near the corner of the garage, meaning I was standing just under the eaves of the roof (which was nice as it had been raining for some time and the respite was appreciated). Mid-stream the guttering above me seemed to spring a small leak and drip very cold water down the back of my neck. Maybe it was something to do with the act I was in the middle of, the immediate fear of some higher power injecting some sort of commentary on my actions, or just the fear that my mum’s psycho-cat was peeing on me from the roof as some form of maniacal revenge for me throwing a rolled up sock at it the previous day (it was deserved) but the horror my nervous system greeted the sensation was almost very messy, and certainly high pitched. All things considered I would rank that icy dribble as one of my all time horrid sensations. I actually felt violated.