I came home from class the other day to process (aka bawl my eyes out) after watching a devastating documentary. I was a bit of an emotional wreck, and then I saw it. There was poop. On the floor.
We don't have any pets. We don't have children. This was a human adult's poop. On my floor.
At first I thought it was a slug or something. There was no way there could be poop on the floor. Not my floor. Thankfully, I never touch unidentified objects with my hands. A sniff test confirmed my fears; this was in fact feces.
My tears and frustration with all that is wrong in the world (emotions from the documentary) were calmed as laughter took over. I must have laughed for an hour straight. Good, hard, belly laughing. Man, laughter does wonders for the soul.
Of course, I immediately sanitized the area and texted the roommate group text requesting that we all try to keep our poopies in the toilet.
The mystery remains as to how someone accidentally poops on the floor. We have our theories. We also have a sneaking suspicion as to the identity of the poop culprit. But, there is no way to gain conclusive evidence. Nor does it really matter to us. I mean, I guess it could happen to anyone (maybe).
While I do not recommend pooping on my floor the next time you want to cheer me up, I must admit that it was a perfectly timed turd.
Life is good.