There are many unexpected joys that come with age. Old age, to be a bit more precise. Taking a good crap is definitely among them. When I was young, I could not have even imagined such a joy. It would not have crossed my mind to write about it, either. Unexpected as it is, the joy is, as it were, doubled. Having just taken a good crap, I should know. To begin with, it did not take much effort on my part. Next, it took a while to empty myself in one continuous push. And last, I ended up pretty clean afterwards. To wit, the long and thick turd that slithered out of me was pointy at the end. So, hardly any trace of it remained in my asshole. I did take a shower after the crap, but that was mainly on account of the growing heat and dampness in the wake of much rain this peculiar summer. Now, it does not take too much effort to figure out how taking a bad crap actually feels like. Which is why I will skip the gory detail. Suffice it to say that everything is the other way around in that case. Why spoil the jubilation, anyway?