me and my bucket

I like to tell the teenagers in our program a story I learned in early recovery about a guy who walks into a room with a bucket of shit, sits down, puts his bucket down beside him, sniffs, and says, “god, it stinks here.”  He then gets up, picks up his bucket, moves to a new seat, sits, sniffs, and says, “god, it stinks here, too”.  The idea being that you will keep encountering your own crap unless you leave it behind.

Imagine, then, these many years later, when my bucket has become something that signifies “home”.  When I moved up to this place in July of 09, a local Bisbee-ite who was also interested in off-grid, eco living, introduced me to the book Humanure by Joseph Jenkins. 

The book revolutionized my life and my thoughts on composting.  Since that time, I have been composting my own manure, living with my bucket in a tiny trailer.  A few months ago, the café at the local laundrymat started saving their organic foods wastes and coffee grinds to add to my growing compost pile.

In all honesty, although I am pretty rugged, I never imagined collecting and using my own waste.  But when Terry asked me if I wanted him to install the septic line (the tank already having been installed by the land’s previous owner), I immediately and resolutely answered, “no, absolutely not”.  And although I moved into the house the day after we stained, it did not feel like home until I could move my bucket in.  At some point, I may invest in one of those pricey, technological wonders called “composting toilets”, but until then, my bucket stays with me.. .