I feel like Lady Macbeth. Except instead of blood on my hands, it’s poop.
As a result, the Diaper Genie is out on the front steps. I put it there on Thursday, in yet another moment of frustration and fury at its total and complete uselessness. There it stands, like a white, squat, malodorous sentry, guarding our house from its own foul presence. There it will stand, until one of us has the heart to throw it away. Or clean it up and give it a hundredth chance to be better at its job.
Whoever designed the Diaper Genie has a poop fetish. As in, he or she clearly enjoys the feeling of excrement seeping wetly around their fingers as they attempt to cram a slippery object through a narrow, strangely angled, and totally uncooperative hole. Like giving birth, but in reverse.
I, on the other hand, have a fetish called “I don’t want shit on my hands.” Ergo, Genie out of the bottle–er, house.
Anyone want it?