Behind my property is a large section of swamp and forest with no neighbors. I've seen deer, raccoon, rabbits, porcupine, coyote, snakes, and many species of bird, including pileated woodpeckers. It is a small haven to escape the rigors of my job (including that damn toilet in room 16 - see earlier post) and affords me a place to do something that brings me great joy; peeing outdoors. I'm sure there is some psychoanalytical reason why this gives me such pleasure, but I'm not interested in why the hypothalamus portion of my brain lights up like Independence Day fireworks whenever I take a "freedom" leak. I don't care. I just know that it makes me happy. Standing there, hands on hips, wetting the soil at my feet, washes my worries away. It is a sense of naturalness (of being with nature) that can be hard to find in our wired world of internet, facebook, twitter, and blogs. Sometimes my dog joins me, and when we're done he looks up at me with his brown, soulful eyes as if to say "I know. I know. And I get to do this all the time."
Many of the people reading this blog are women who I expect do not share my joy, and so I have some information for you that you may not have known. Men also enjoy peeing outside because that means we are not peeing inside. Sometimes we have a hard time hitting the bowl, and no, it's not out of spite. Frustratingly, the stream can split and go in several directions at once. I've seen as many as six streams - up, down, right, left, and two spinning around like pinwheels. When this happens it's impossible to maintain "bowl integrity." I suspect it happens to women too, but because you're sitting you don't notice. So, I implore all the women reading this blog not to punish your husband for missing the bowl; however, you should be angry as hell if he doesn't clean it up. There's no excuse for that. And if he continues to refuse to sponge up his spillage, send him outside. You'll be doing both of you a favor.