Adventures in Defecation

No, I’m not talking about going into the woods, or going through the woods, now — I’m talking about pooping. In. The. Woods. Well? It had been several years for me, but there I was, at the perfect artist retreat. I had found this small business park on a Sunday afternoon with a tree-lined street that faced an semi-busy road. I had peace; I had quiet; I had cars to watch if I needed a mental break. There I was, working on my latest artistic tour-de-force, when I realized that I had to take a dump.

Maybe you would have held it. I thought about it, but then considered that I could take a dump and then get in a few more minutes of creation time before I headed out to Starbucks. So I found a trail that lead down to a lake, took a whiz (but didn’t give it back), and then pooped. In. The. Woods. It was awesome, standing there and looking at my turds curled on themselves like some kind of defecation cloverleaf.

The only problem was when I realized that I needed something with which to wipe. I looked around. No, leaves wouldn’t do, especially those pointy ones. Were they poison oak? I pulled up and hurried back to the car, looking for those Baby Wipes I had around. Then, inside the car, I realized that those had dried up a long time ago. Fortunately, I had some napkins. Some of you may be wincing, but not I. My butt got tough when it had to use that junior high toilet paper which is about as gentle as sandpaper. Napkins would be no problem.

So I waddled back down to the lake, hoping that I wasn’t staining my underwear in the process, wiped, and tossed my napkins in the lake. Sure, I could have buried them, but they were paper. Paper means “biodegradable”, which means no problem.

Then I realized that I had nothing to clean my hands with. Well, the lake was out, so I just toughed it out until I got back to civilization. Would I do it again? Of course! In fact, I was disappointed in myself that I had waited this long. But I do need to stock up my car with some Baby Wipes first.