Enter chicken poo.
I have been eyeing a 25 kg bag of chicken poo the way my friends eye the latest pairs of Jimmy Choo. You want it really bad but are you ready for the costs?
So what will chicken poo cost me? Not much money evidently since by every account it is still a bag of shit. But the SMELL... oh... the SMELL! My garden is just outside my window, and being on the top floor, one experiences pleasant evening and morning breezes. For the present, these breezes are perfumed with jasmine and frangipani scents. I'm not sure I would enjoy bottom notes of flower scent completed by top notes of dung scent.
But when I look at my garden, it stares back at me with puppy dog eyes begging to be given a shit treat. So... I am torn between my finicky city self with dustbuster in hand, and my alter ego who revels in sweat and mud of gardening. And you know what, I don't think my finicky city self is gonna win this battle.