The Race Against Physics OR The Turd Bucket Debacle

Oh where do I start with this late, late post? How about subject matter and language warnings?

Well, let’s go back to that horse ranch; the good one with the crappy power supply. See here.

I’ve been asked about the bucket full of turds on several occasions, so I think it’s about time we tell everyone about that particular disaster.

I’ll make a longer story short when it comes to our bathroom renovations. Over and over again, the single biggest full-timer complaint we have seen has been about the state of black water tanks. Whether it was vomit-inducing odors, indestructible clogs, or poopsicles, the black water tank seemed to be the bane of all full timers.

Before deciding to go full time (and since before meeting Lyndsay), my goal had been to live primitively off grid and off the land. A relatively extensive area of research had been how to deal with human waste. Aside from the fact that most of the land I was looking at would be in the Canadian Shield and so an outhouse would be a no-go, outhouses do a fair amount of damage to the ground water and soil.

I ran across humanure composting and bought The Humanure Handbook. The author is quite eccentric (and I say that as an eccentric individual) and can be hard to read at times due to many of his ill-informed opinions. Nonetheless, his knowledge of humanure composting is extensive.

I think you’re starting to see where this is going.

Part of our bathroom renovations was to put in a container for sawdust and a bucket toilet for humanure composting. How well the composting has gone has been very dependent on where we are staying, but I digress…

As I said before, we were on the second horse ranch. The bucket was full and it was time for me to tie off the bag and take it out.

Now, a rational person would have tied off the bag and taken the whole bucket out to dump. But I’m an idjit (if you don’t understand that reference, we can’t be friends). I’d spent the first several months taking a big bag of piss and turds out of the house, the weight of the semi-fluid mass slowly stretching the bag and threatening to burst as I raced against physics to the nearest manure pile, compost pile, or garbage bin.

On this particular morning, physics won at the starting line.

Everyone knows the strongest force in the universe; whatever it is that keeps two five-gallon buckets together. Well, it turns out plastic garbage bags aren’t as strong as five-gallon buckets.

As I strained to separate the bag of horrors from the plastic bucket, the bag ripped open. The good news is that the bag was still largely in the bucket and so most of the mess landed there.

The bad news is that there was splash-back.

Grossed out reenactment;

Turds and urine-soaked sawdust splashed out. Onto the floor. Into the tub. And up the wall.

Angry wife reenactment.

While I went outside and dumped the bucket into a different bag for later disposal, Lyndsay had to clean out the bathroom; screaming the whole time about how shitty her morning was (now quite literally). I cleaned the bucket out as best I could while poor Dalija sat on the couch in shock and Aurora played like everything was fine, not noticing a thing.

Wife’s butt reenactment.

So there’s the story of the bucket full of turds. Quite literally, shit was up the wall.

At least it didn’t hit the fan.

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