The Anal Trilogy

You know what they say..."Poopy things come in threes!" Or at least they SHOULD say that, because it's certainly true this week.

Warning: Do not read this while eating.

One: The Final Walkthrough

On Tuesday I went to my soon-to-be-new-home for a final walkthrough. My real estate agent and I were met at the front door by the former owners. They're a really sweet couple, but they seemed strangely anxious to leave...I assumed they just didn't like people looking at their stuff while they were still around.

After they scurried out the door, my agent and I went through the rooms, making sure everything was still fine. When I approached the bathroom door...WOAH! One of those cute, sweet people had taken a horrific dump sometime previous, and the stench was REVOLTING. I could only stand it long enough to take a quick look around and run back out...no wonder the two of them ran away so fast.

Unfortunately I didn't include the "No Stinky Poops" clause in my list of conditions.

Two: The Laundry Room

I go next door to do my laundry, and I've mentioned previously that they have an occasional sewage problem down there. On Wednesday I walked over with my dirty clothes and detergent, and I noticed that the basement door was open. I looked in...and there was one of my neighbours, sitting on the washing machine with his shirt over his nose and at least two inches of raw sewage floating around him.

"You'll have to leave," he said. Apparently he'd just dumped some water down the floor drain, and the sewage just gushed right out.

I asked him if he could escape, and he said "I think so." He gingerly lowered himself into the mire and tip-toed between the floating lumps of sh*t.

I am SO happy I'm moving away.

Three: The License Bureau

Today I went down to the license bureau to get my driver's license renewed. Amazingly, I was faced with exactly the same thing that happened the last time I was there, four years ago: one of the three attendants -- a poofy-haired blonde woman -- was having a long, whispered, personal chat with a creepy older lady across the kiosk counter.

I'm serious, these same two women were doing exactly the same thing the last time I was there, and we're not talking about a quick chat, we're talking about a good five minutes: "I knew somethin' wasn't right, with him always stompin' up and down the stairs." -- "Yup, nothin' else you could do." -- "An' I'm thinkin', what can I do?" -- "There's nothin' else you can do."

And on and on and on. We patient people in the growing line exchanged glances and whispered gripes that this always happens here.

Suddenly the creepy old lady at the counter let out a long, wet, deafening fart. We stared. We were dumbstruck and amazed. And the two of them just keep on talking as though nothing had happened.

"I hope I don't get that kiosk," said the woman behind me. She didn't, but the woman AFTER her did.