A few months ago - maybe it was just a few weeks - I made a declaration that I was tired of being the manager of all the poop, literally. I have been dealing with George poop (George the cat) both in the litter box and in random piles on our floors, kid poop (I thought I was out of the stage of changing diapers and then I remembered I'm a grandmother - the joke is on me), rings of poop stuck on the toilets that take a chisel to remove, poop remnants on clothes and pads - a necessary burden, consideration for a colonoscopy prep for someone who doesn't move well on their own..., bird poop on our newly stained deck, and the poop of the neighbor's (outdoor) cat (that annoys me because we don't live on a farm) that has decided to use our yard as it's poop station. Hey kitty - go use your own yard, please.
And now, just to prove that God has a sense of humor, I was greeted this morning with raccoon poop when I went out on the deck to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee.
I suppose if dealing with all the literal poop is the worst thing that ever happens to me, I should be very grateful. But seriously, who knew there was so much poop to manage in one person's life?
P.S. Oh I forgot, my sweet grandson, who is staying with us while his mommy and daddy are on a trip, woke up last night with a tummy ache and a pile of, you guessed it, poop in his breeches. No worries little one, Grandma knows how to handle a little poop. LOL
For those who know - this is brought to you by my real voice rather than my phone voice. Just wanted to have a little fun