Pea Gardening – The Prequel or is it Peequel?
Two Related Tales.
Tale 1 2018
Earlier today in a Dear Blog episode l highlighted through desperation that l had to pee in the garden due to some confusion concerning bathroom usage. Suze was mortified that l had resorted to peeing in our back garden, as a result of not knowing what she was doing in the bathroom, as in was she showering or sitting on the loo herself. There was considerable echo in the toilet when l had first listened, but she was coughing so l had ‘wrongly so it turns out’ assumed that she was sitting on the lav doing her business and just happened to be coughing.
However l was caught so short l did not have the time to negotiate with my darling other half, and so making a decision on the spot with literally moments before my bladder burst to go and urinate in our garden.
I quickly, well as quickly as l could with crossed legs and that funny jump move we all do when we are desperate for a pee, went from my bedroom through the hallways into the office through the office, unlocking the conservatory door through the conservatory to the outside door, unlocked that and quickly dashed out into the darkness around the corner and starting peeing away with glee.
Suze having heard all of this twenty second dashing, finished whatever it was she was doing, never got to the bottom of that, because she said she wasn’t weeing, and followed in the path of my flight and seeing the door open, and nobody outside couldn’t see me pee [poet don’t know it] and whispered ‘What on earth are you doing?’ which is where the Dear Blog episode would come into its own logical sequence.
Now this is NOT the first time l have had to resort to urinating in our garden, it’s almost become part of a frequent routine, so much so onlookers might wrongly perceive it to be some kind of nightly ritual to me or something, l have on many occasions had to pee in the garden, so much so that we have a dare l say it’, a splash of grass that is wonderously lush as a direct result of my obviously healthy pee! The grass is always longer and this did cause Suze some alarm last year.
“Darling?” She called to me last summer, “Have you seen this grass outside of the conservatory window? It appears to be much longer than the other grass surrounding it? Why is that”
“It’s my peeing spot babes.”
Which was followed by an unhealthy pregnant pause which made me look up from what l was doing to see Suze with that odd expression on her face again.
“Oh l am sorry l think l may have just misheard you, but … did … YOU … just … say … that … THIS , was your peeing spot?”
“Yes darling!” I answered and getting back to what l was doing.
“No, no wait a minute l am a bit lost, why do you need to pee in the garden when the office is right next door to the bathroom?”
“To help Scrappy out of course.”
“Why help Scrappy? She doesn’t need help peeing in the garden, what – do you come out as a couple and pee together??”
“Don’t be silly, of course not!”
“I am silly? You are peeing in the garden to help out our dog, and l am silly? Am l missing something here? Do you NOT like the toilet?”
“Of course l do, but l can not always get to it, because of Scrappy.”
“What do you mean??”
“Because our lovely furball of an evening, at times, many a time in truth, has a terrible habit of sleeping with her back against the door and once she is zonkoed and out with the blessed pixies, she is like a flipping boulder, there is absolutely no moving her!”
“Well just open the door!”
“No babes, you are missing the point – our little dog becomes a solid mass of concrete and l have trouble waking her and opening the door, so you have 4 choices, piss yourself, piss on the carpet, piss on her or piss in the garden? And guess what? That’s right l choose the garden!”
“I see … right, well l don’t know what to say Rory?”
“Well you might start by saying thank you for not pissing on the carpet Babes??”
Tale 2 2017
“What the bloody hell are you doing????!” Suze shouted at me when l had the empty litre bottle in hand and walking towards the bathroom.
“Going for a pee, obviously.”
“Why the bloody bottle?”
“So l can pee in the bottle, duh, not rocket science is it?”
“Why are you peeing in the bottle, and not just down the toilet?”
“Because l want to save the urine, be a great help if you could pee into this bottle as well?”
“You can fuck right off, if you think l am 1] going to do that and 2] could do that!”
“It’s no problem, l will just rely on my wee then.” And l walk into the bathroom, and when done walk out empty handed.
“Where’s the bottle and why didn’t you flush?”
“Oh really babes? The bottle is in the bathroom, l didn’t flush because my wee is in the bottle, l did wash my hands though.”
“Nope, not happening, l don’t want the wee bottle in the bathroom, smelling the place up, it’s bad enough that my partner has completely and utterly lost the plot, but l am NOT sharing my wee time with your wee!”
“You really are being overly sensitive today, it’s got the cap on.”
Suze by this time is looking like she might just explode.
“Get that bloody bottle out of here, and WHY do you wish to keep your wee in the first place?”
“It’ll work really well as a compost accelerator, so l am going to try and produce 12 lites of wee for the heap.”
“Unfuckingbelievable! People don’t understand me when l say you can be a bloody challenge to live with! Fine, keep your bottled wee, but not in the bathroom!!”
Later on in the first day of producing compost accelerator, my bottled wee was sat beside me underneath the desk when Scrappy came in and knocked it over! It was safe it didn’t leak out, but Suze saw this and flipped out a gasket! So l was then instructed to leave the bottle outside of the back door, which is where it stayed for a good week, until Suze one day tripped over it and broke it, which was pretty good going as it was a sturdy plastic jobby, but it was an afternoon bottle and by this time, its smell was quite rich!
So then she really lost it, and said for all the benefit is did l may as well just pee in the bloody garden … which if you think on it, is Suze giving me permission to wee in the garden, so l ask you all, why is she still so shocked?
Her response, is that l took what she said too bloody literally! Yet the following year we had an absolutely superb compost aided by my urine accelerator and to boot the garden grass was lush lush, hello l rest my point – there is nothing wrong with peeing in the garden.
But, Suze doesn’t like me doing it, she can be so fussy, you know?