By Janet Lee
After weeks of research and making a template to make sure it would fit, Michael and I decided that we would purchase a composting toilet for the forward head. I thought what a great concept; we can have an on board garden with all the dirt we make from poop. However the thought of extracting all the old waste, and water lines, plus the holding tank (in our case a large bladder) did not appeal to me in the least. To say that I was ecstatically happy when Michael did all of the dirty work while I was occupied with other things (nail appointment, fabric shopping, liquor store for disinfectant, catching up with my daughter for lunch) is an understatement.
After hours spent networking with various people I returned to Adventure Us 2 to discover my Michael had pulled out most of the crappy old stuff, but he still had to get under the forward head to extract the last remaining toxic waste lines and to begin the installation of our new, improved pooper. I was pretending to polishing the port lights (can't mess up a new manicure) when I heard the most obnoxious noise coming from down below. I followed the desperate crying and all I could see his were his cute little legs from his knees down sticking out from a small opening under the V-berth. I thought to myself, "Good Lord! I hope he is not stuck!" I walked over to let him know I was there for him when I heard a muffled yell, "JL please hang close by in case I get stuck!" Great! How in God's name did he ever get in that little opening and contort his body to get where he was, and worse yet, how would I get him out if he did decide to get stuck? "Hello, 911. My emergency is....." I assured him that I was there for him, but in reality I was not very comfortable with what he was doing. (When did that ever stop a man? Right?)
Fortunately, he completed his mission and extricated himself without my help or having to call 911.
Now we just need to make dirt.
Now we just need to make dirt.
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