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Watersports
Pee-play without the diapers!
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By astrodiaper · Posted
Wow. There's a few I'd take you up on, but finances are tight for a minute, and I've got stuff to burn through that I have stashed everywhere but where I originally meant for my supplies to go. (Including some of those reusable grocery bags and a tall clothes basket.) -
The week started well with the Lazarus-like recovery of our stricken washing machine although in our case, Jesus drove a Fisher & Paykel van and invoiced us $425 to pull the stunt. Not all metaphors are perfect. Unsurprisingly, one of the four suspension rods that holds the drum in place via slider joints at the drum’s top ring had fatigued and hyper-extended. This had allowed the drum to jump the track and unleash hell at the spin cycle. Naturally all 4 suspension rods needed to be replaced (with all 4 prices) to ensure consistent rigidity across the entire suspension mechanism but again, the Fisher & Paykel technician assured me that this was a far better alternative than replacement with the newer Chinese-manufactured model. He was disinterested in the gouging of the drum lip, dismissing it as merely cosmetic (and not even that once the drum had been returned to its rightful place). Any material loss was considered inconsequential from a balance point of view. My beloved can now start laundering rocks from the garden beds. Able to now resume peeing in pinned towelling and plastic pants I immediately did so. I’ve noticed that recollection-free wet nights seem more common in cloth (although at this point they are far from unknown in disposables). I wonder if these elevated odds are because some part of me is aware of the negligible night leakage risk cloth nappies pose. I don’t wake up because there’s really no need to. My cloth nappy will deal with it regardless of how I might be orientated in bed. This morning I woke up (briefly) at 3:30am to inexplicably find myself with soaked towelling at my crotch and left hip but a still-dry bum. The bedwetting fairies had visited whilst I was sleeping on my side. Try that stunt in a disposable. The longer-than-usual shift for disposables that ended with the revival of our washing machine did not however occur without incident. This fresh incident orbited the other great “live life in nappies” criticality: rubbish collection. Rubbish days are Fridays up here in our slice of the Sunshine Coast geriatric departure lounge. Like most Australian councils, rubbish bins aren’t as simple as they were in the 1980s. Gone are the “Oscar The Grouch” style single metal trash cans that could be stuffed with anything and everything we didn’t want anymore and then used as cricket stumps for games of street cricket. In their place, an ever-increasing platoon of colour-coded “wheelie bins” each colour intended for different flavours of waste, each colour with complex rules as to dietary preference and collection cadences. We have only THREE types of bin. Other councils nearby have FOUR. Selected looney-left-whale-saving-nuclear-free councils have FIVE. As the costs and inconvenience for this multitude of wheelie-bins are borne exclusively by the ratepayer whilst the benefits (largely confined to electronic-media-based ecological virtue signalling) are enjoyed exclusively by the local council (city hall) that has inflicted them upon the masses, there is no sign of this trend abating. Primary colours are a competency most acquire before kindergarten but in a master-stroke of genius, OUR local council chose to have a “green lid” bin for garden waste (prunings, lawn-clippings, small branches but sadly not neighbour’s pets) but a “khaki green lid” bin for general waste (including nappies). Perhaps in recognition of the inevitable human frailty factor, khaki-green-lid general waste bins have been progressively replaced with red-lid bins as they wear out but wheelie bins last a long time. Our general waste bin has a khaki-green lid. This week was green bin (garden mulch) and khaki-green-bin (general waste). I’d put them out on Thursday night when the council app installed on my smartphone told me to. Rubbish bins have gotten THAT complicated. The next day around mid-morning I noticed the green truck (they are colour co-ordinated with the wheelie bins they are collecting) do its thing. The general waste truck usually tracks along an hour or two behind. I knew therefore that I had a window of opportunity to sneak out last night’s pizza box and this morning’s used nappy to get them out of the house using “last week’s” rubbish bin. Fun fact: a used Rearz InControl BeDry Night Premium (Colin) can be disguised inside a de-formed pizza box in order to carry it down the street. Living at the end of a short laneway that is too narrow for a rubbish truck, our bins are collected from down at our laneway corner. Wandering past the neighbour’s houses carrying a balled up wet nappy the size of a dead chicken isn’t advisable. Even if I wasn’t directly spotted by neighbours, I’d still have to run the gauntlet of one neighbour’s terminally-friendly-but-free-range border collie who is always excitedly ready to snatch anything that looks like a ball from my hand for a quick game of “fetch”. I guess it would be interesting to see who would be the most surprised. Upon reaching the bins I discovered that our green waste bin had been emptied (expected) but unexpectedly, so too had our khaki green general waste bin. That was odd. I did NOT remember hearing a second truck. What was odder was that the OTHER general waste bins (the newer, red kind) had NOT been emptied. Just mine. Quel Horreur! The garden waste truck had not only collected our garden waste bin but had, in a moment of tragic chromatic ambiguity, collected our general waste bin as well. My mind was instantly transported to a local TV news article from a few months ago concerning the perils of “contaminated” garden waste collections. The interview featured a Hi-vis-clad council autocrat admonishing ratepayers for their wanton tossing of used nappies into their green waste bins. Apparently this creates a certain degree of squalor and misery for the waste processing folk who have to sort things out at the other end. I was THAT person. In addition to whatever decomposing horrors my beloved had scooped out of the “crypt” compartments in our refrigerator, I’d just sent nearly 20kg of wet adult nappies to a garden mulcher. Except I didn’t actually do it. It was an accident. Honestly. Not even MY accident (although a few of those night nappies got wet by MY accident). I blame a council truck driver who was either away or asleep the day they did “colours” at his kindergarten. But I still feel a bit guilty about it anyway. -
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Oh, Johnny's first day at a daycare center in the mall. This is going to be interesting. I hope the woman Aunt Cat mentioned is really as nice as she says. I bet she's there, but there's also a less nice one, and the less nice one will get up to some mischief with John and Kate, OR someone will try to take the two of them away, and an inexperienced coworker will almost let it happen. -
I don't have wetting issues because I'm in nappies. It doesn't matter when I wet or how much. It doesn't matter if I wet when I'm not expecting to. That's the whole point really - as little control as a baby. I've no idea what level of control I would have now if I tried to exercise it. I'm never going to try. I've had a couple of UTI bouts in the past few years, but it's the soreness that concerns me then, not the wetting. -
By astrodiaper · Posted
Guess whose back, back again, Astro's back, tell a friend.... I win
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