Punk Rock Shitter

I did not take any notes during my recent two week vacation, sometimes I write on paper with a pen. I can do that at about the same speed I type. Some things are easy to remember without note taking. Like the bathroom facilities at one of the backwoods resorts we camped out in.

When you opened the door to go to the can lights turned on automatically and country western music started playing. Not modern country pop either. Hank Snow, Wilf Carter, Bill Monroe and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. It was fucking magic. But there is more.

When you open the the door to the shitter some sort of fart killing aroma therapy gas automatically goes to work on your over-sized campfire beer and whisky shit. It was a shitter fit for the Queen.

I am already looking into renovating my bathroom. It was the best time I have ever had in a bathroom. Sonja is ok with the idea, with one proviso. "You'll pipe fucking country western music into our bathroom over my dead body."

Looks like I might be listening to DOA when I open the bathroom door in the morning and have a big lavender scented beer shit, before heading into the sawmill to work another motherfucking day.