Another Kind of Shoveling

I just finished scooping a winter’s worth of poop. It’s been warm this week, and as the snow has melted to reveal its buried treasures, my yard has taken on the appearance of a turd field. When I got home from work, it was raining. I was wearing some nice Anne Klein pants and soft leather boots. I should have changed clothes, but if I did it was going to be into my jammies. And the turd field would have stayed a turd field.

I didn’t even take off my coat—grabbed a kitchen trash bag, stalwartly marched out to the TF, located the 5-gallon bucket and scooping implements, put the bag in the bucket, and began The Process. Still in work clothes, in the rain, scooping shit. Doesn’t that sound like the most miserable scenario in the world? Au contraire. It was strangely gratifying—reclaiming my yard as un-turd space was uncovered, contemplating the brown grass that spring and summer will soon green up, and taking in big deep breaths of fresh outdoors. I wasn’t way happy to notice yellow shit on my boot, but oh well… it eventually scraped off.

The rain turned to snow. I finished filling the trash bag, tied it, and made my deposit in an outdoor trash barrel. My hair was wet, my yard was reclaimed, and my jammies were warm and welcoming.