Shit Detective

Ask anyone and they will tell you that I employ a laissez- faire attitude toward all things housekeeping.

Just one glance at our upstairs bathroom would confirm any evil suspicions you may have harbored about me as it looks like the dimly lit filth pit where crack whores go to die but then they decide it’s too low rent for them so they go expire in the alley instead.

But when it comes to the one “public face of urination and defecation” aka “The middle floor bathroom” that the outside world may have to use, we manage to keep it in the kind of shape that prevents shame with the help of my cleaning woman and an occasional spritz of Clorox disinfectant.

But today?

Today there was some sort of meteorological shit storm that had secretly taken place and left its filthy tell-tale signs all over the place.

Very rarely does something happen that makes me spring into action like shit being someplace that it should not be.

If you step in dog crap, I’m right on your heels sniffing everything in sight to see what you might have contaminated.

One of the dogs leaves a pile poop on one of our many rugs? I’ve got a fistful of paper towels, some Resolve and fifteen minutes carved out of my internet surfing schedule to take care of it.

One of my offspring makes a mess of the downstairs toilet? I turn into a sleuth with a specialty in  fecal forensics and the shaming power of a thousand angry nuns.

This is sad AND ironic because I am a horrible slob with no real leg to stand on here.

My mother has even refused to stay longer than two hours at my home because the mess and chaos inwardly infuriates her but she’s still too stressed out by her job to realize that the smudge covered swirling piles of garbage are what’s causing that nagging desire to flee.

So anyway, I started my “loud talking” asking questions about the bathroom mess in a public accusatory way that sounded a LOT like Faye Dunaway in Mommy Dearest wondering aloud “how this mess got here” while people actively ignored me.

Was it you? Short or long visit?

 I thought it would only be a matter of time before the guilty party would be felled by my arrow of justice, but no.

Then trying to  cleverly twist the whole wretched thing around I began  asking recent bathroom visitors if it had been a “long” or “short” stay to narrow down my list of suspects but I came up empty-handed.

In the end I just decided to give up the fight and use the bottle of cleaner to take care of business just like every other rational adult does. Especially since the breakfast dishes were looking at me with accusatory glances,waiting for a response.

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31 Comments

Filed under clean, mess, mommy dearest, who did this

31 responses to “Shit Detective

  1. Tom G.

    This is where a home DNA Analysis kit would come in handy. Why don’t they sell these at Target?

  2. Ugh. I writhe in agony and disgust with a raunchy toilet underside. I don’t know how I’d handle poo in inappropriate places…oh. Right. That’s why I got married.

  3. michael freeman

    Sometimes I am amazed at the fashion in which my kids can leave fecal matter on the (Top/Underside/Upside down/Reverse/and the heavy weight champion, wrong side of the Lid…of the porcelain)…Its almost as though they shit themeselves first and than decided to saunter to the bathroom and do some body painting with the facilities….it truly defies logic…..Is there a more apropos word than shit….?

    • dufmanno

      You know, it’s funny if I hadn’t already told everyone we were related why do I know it wouldn’t be a real stretch to figure it out?
      Do you also know that I once actually DID paint with shit? Ask your mother sometime about what I did at Lucy’s (my Dad’s aunt’s) house when I was still in diapers. How I’m still alive I’m not sure.

  4. dbs

    “Shaming Power” = hilarious (although a little frightening too).

  5. Reminds me of that scene in Daddy Daycare.

    You know the one I’m talking about. Admit it.

    • dufmanno

      I do. Except I don’t get all over the top like Eddie Murphy. I ask many annoying questions and get the run around from the suspects. Also? My bathroom is NO WHERE NEAR as nice as that nice movie bathroom in that nice movie house.

  6. Oh, dear God. What if it turns out to be a very sneaky neighbor with IBS?

  7. My mother used to make me watch Mommy Dearest when I was a child and then demand I acknowledge that she was a better mother than Faye Dunaway.

    The shaming power is something I’m going to have to try with my own kids. They’re boys though, so I doubt they’ll care after they’ve made a mess.

    • dufmanno

      I think I need to meet your mother.
      “TELL ME I’M BETTER THAN THAT! TELL ME OR I’LL TAKE ALL YOUR PRESENTS AWAY BUT THE ONE YOU DON’T REALLY WANT!”
      “I’M NOT MAD AT YOU, I’M MAD AT THE DIRT, BUT NOT AS MAD AS FAYE DUNAWAY IN HER PORTRAYAL”
      I’ve actually started using NEW shaming techniques saying that dead relatives WOULD BE ASHAMED as they gaze down (or up) at you from the “other side”.

  8. Once upon a time I was standing with my cousins in a park as they were watching their kids play. One girl turned to the other and said, “How old are they before they start to wipe their own asses again?” I think of that day often, now.

  9. This very thing happened in our house a month or so ago. It was everywhere. I cleaned all the hard surfaces, of course. But there was a spatter of it on the fabric shower curtain, and man alive that thing is a pain in the ass to take down and launder. It stayed there and taunted me for over a week before I finally caved and washed it.

    • dufmanno

      I can actually see the poo spatter in my mind.
      Small, but deadly.
      I would have annihilated it with a cup of bleach and pretended like I didn’t know how the curtain got discolored.
      The only way a shower curtain comes down in this house is if I fall getting in and grab hastily onto it while I’m going down to try and save myself.

  10. I think your interrogation technique is very good, but keep in mind that the embarrassment of the foul poop foul is hard to overcome.

    I mean, that is what someone told me.

    • dufmanno

      I’m imagining you tied to a chair with duct tape on your mouth and a lone lightbulb swinging on a chain over your head while I ask questions.
      Wait, what?

  11. Not long ago, either one of my kids or my niece or nephew left a lonely turd floating in the bowl — without any toilet paper. No paper. No flush. No confession. These are the times a black light would come in handy.

    • dufmanno

      How do you get out with NO PAPER? That’s when I start my “EVERYONE DROP YOUR PANTS AND BEND OVER” routine. It also works well for rock stars.

  12. Would you believe me if I told you this exact scenario befell me on Saturday past? My kids had some friends over. When their mother came to pick them up, I led her to the basement where they were playing. What the hell is that smell?! I barked. Lo and behold, a pile of shit lay on the bathroom floor. 6 kids. Not one of them fessed up. The scary part is that I’ve been wiping ass for so long, the grossness of it barely fazed me.

    • dufmanno

      Oh I believe it.
      Also? “What the hell is that smell?!” is probably the phrase said the most times in one day at this house. The possibilities are endless.

  13. i would have left it and watched who returned to the scene. or for the cleaning lady.

  14. I walked into a bathroom stall once….someone had completely missed the toilet and it landed on the floor beside the bowl. How is that even possible?

    Sounds to me like you have a highly-evolved sniffer, so you should not be held responsible for the interrogation techniques:)

    • dufmanno

      I am of the opinion that if you miss the bowl it is a thinly disguised “fuck you” to someone.
      Think of how hard it would be to take a crap on the floor.

  15. I hate when my house is messy, which is completely hypocritical and ironic because I lack the organizational skills to pull off anything that doesn’t resemble a college dormitory. I am creative, not logical.

    So I use flylady. It sucks, it’s smarmy, but they email you the shit you’re supposed to do and when you do it, the house gets clean via magic. However, you become anal about hotspots and shiny sinks and putting on shoes all the time.

    I inevitably rebel against being a good housewife and let it fall into the crack bathroom you mentioned until company threatens to come over.

    • dufmanno

      Wait, you have a magic cleaning lady? I’m confused.
      What is flylady? How can I possess this scrubbing dynamo who has the power of flight? I need to google this.

  16. If you’re going to be a shit detective, don’t you need a shit name?
    How ’bout Hercule Poo-rot?
    Agatha Crusty?
    Sherlog Holmes?

    Ok, (hangs head) I’m done.

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