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Humor
That Time I Passed Out From Taking A Sh!t
Welcome to my podcast, TMI With Bev
For a short period of time, I lived in a normal, raccoon- and snake-free house. Those were the Dave years, which are sandwiched in between the living-in-a-tiny-guest-house-with-dying-first-husband years and the dilapidated farmhouse years, i.e. now.
During the Dave years, we had an actual master bedroom with an actual master bath. I can’t even imagine that kind of luxury now. That is like Kardashian-level living.
One night, nature called, and I shuffled into the bathroom to do whatever needed doing. I have to say, I was proud of the result (there’s actually a website where you can post pictures of your most perfect — or horrifying — poos. Because of course there is).
As I was headed back to bed, I suddenly found myself on the wrong end of the telescope — everything was very small and very far away, and I went down like a sack of pajama-clad potatoes.
Now, I’m a fainter from way back. The first time was when my dad ended up with a blunt hook through his hand (the hook was attached to a line which was attached to a spooked horse) and we all trooped to the hospital.
I think I was seven or eight. I remember feeling the need for a little fresh air, heading…
