As part of my effort to share with the 3 of you what randomness gets posted on my facebook, I feel like I really need to tell you about our new Porta-Potty! It is the prettiest shade of turquoise and it was gifted to us by the gods? neighbors? who knows! at some point on Thursday. I was not here for the arrival of our new turquoise throne because I was off being a responsible adult (I was spending the afternoon at my business with another dog trainer friend drinking wine and training our own dogs--we try to do this once a week, otherwise the only dogs we would ever train end up belonging to everyone else. Also, it gives us a chance to catch up, vent, and did I mention that we drink wine? I'm off topic here.) working really hard at my business. But it was there when I got home.
We didn't ask for this new potty. Our plumbing is in good working order, and, honestly, had we requested one of these, we probably would not have placed it at a somewhat disquieting angle sitting in a ditch. It doesn't even look like anyone bothered to level it. But here is the thing: We live in a nice rural neighborhood on Lake Anna. There are two kinds of houses on our road--million dollar lake-front houses with docks and tiki bars that look out over the water, and small ranchers that sit on wooded properties and do not actually touch the lake. I am a dog trainer. Before you guys get all excited and quit your day jobs to pursue your dreams of talking sense into the neighbor's aggressive chihuahua, please note that I am not a millionaire and I do not live in one of the fancy houses on the lake. But...someone about forty years ago decided that this neighborhood needed a road association and a community dock. This has morphed into a Property Owners Association (again, for the upkeep of the dock and roads), and, as of this summer, the wealthy homeowners are trying to convert our little POA into a full-fledged Northern Virginia style Home Owners Association, complete with neighborhood covenants and everything. Obviously those of us that live in the small houses not directly on the lake have very little use for the wealthy retirees telling us what shrubs we can plant and how often our homes must get new siding. There have been some spectacular neighborhood emails going back and forth. One of the neighbors has obtained legal counsel. The POA has also obtained legal counsel (which they paid for by essentially draining the treasury of the POA...I'll get to that later...maybe). All of this culminated in the annual meeting and picnic, which was held at one of the million dollar homes, and involved lots of angry neighbors yelling at each other and accomplishing nothing.
All of this is to say that right now I am watching my email with glee, waiting for one of these folks to send a note to the neighborhood about the new outhouse parked along the road. There is no missing it. There is only one road into our neighborhood. It's not particularly wide, and our new evacuation station has been parked just on the inside of a blind curve. If one of these neighbors has an extra martini while celebrating the latest Trumpian tax breaks, they are going to come around that curve in their pretty little Mercedes SUV and plow straight into that thing. When they invite their friends over for an evening of cocktails on the deck, they will have to tell them to "turn left after the outhouse". This will not go over well. Think of the property values, folks! The property values!!!!!
As an aside, I did call the number on the front of the Porta-potty and left them several messages. I assured them that we have indoor plumbing, that there is no construction that I can see around here, and that I was confused as to how we suddenly inherited this thing. No one has called me back. My mom suggested that perhaps it was stolen and dropped off there, but...who on earth would steal a Porta-Potty?!? I have not been brave enough to open the door, but it is October in Virginia, and thus, still in the upper 80s/low 90s. If you get within 10 feet of the Turdis (one of my friends suggested calling it that, and it is perfect), you can smell it (that magical Porta-Potty smell of other peoples' poop mixed with hardcore disinfectant). If it's still there in November, I'm decorating it for the holidays.
Hopefully someone didn't think that was a good way to dispose of a body. :D
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