For the past week, I’ve been gearing up for a big move. Which means a lot of packing and a lot of rushing to get things organized. In the mad rush, I haven’t been very attentive to my needs. Oh, I eat when the mood strikes. It’s usually quick takeout so I can avoid using dishes. In fact, I’ve been eating more than I normally do because of the added stress of moving. What completely escaped my mind however, was that I hadn’t really gone to the bathroom since this whole mess started. When I do, I’m usually out of the house and it’s just a piss.
So I’m sat on the floor of my one bedroom apartment, sorting through garbage for recycling when I feel the familiar urge to fart. Like I said, my diet for the past few days haven’t been great. So the farts have been big and frequent. I leaned to one side and blasted the seat of my pants with a nice bass-y fart when I felt something heavy drop down in it’s place.
‘Uh oh’, I thought. ‘Better hit the head.’
As I stood to head to the restroom, another fart squeaked out and I could feel the log preparing for exit. No big deal at this point. It’s a small apartment and it’s not that urgent. Or at least it wasn’t until I realized…due to my erratic style of packing, the bathroom door was completely sealed behind boxes and bags of trash. As I started to move the first box, the need to go became a bit more urgent; probably because I had a week’s worth of food trying to make a break for it. I was straining to lift the box while keeping my cheeks clenched.
The more I moved, the more I had to go. By the time I’d made any headway I was touching cloth. My guts gurgling, the muscles in my ass loosening, the panic growing. I was right outside the bathroom, for crying out loud. I began to rush and in that rush dropped a box directly on my foot. As I yelled out in pain, the log that had been battling for freedom had claimed it’s victory. My pants began to bulge and fill with what had to be the thickest turd I’ve birthed in a while.
Frustrated, I just decided to get back to work so now my foot is sore, my pants are full and my room smells like week old shit. These boxes aren’t the only thing I’ve filled to the brim…