The stool is not at all a minor issue
In life there are small misfortunes that happen periodically: catching a cold, losing socks in the washing machine, a potato rotting in the pantry, and if you live in Barcelona, stepping on dog poop. The one the other day was a pointed turd, as my young son pointed out to me while I was dealing with the incident at a fountain. That innocent comment made me go from cursing the responsible party (human, of course) to analyzing the animal's health according to the Bristol Stool Scale, which is a clear example of my brain's erratic rambling: sometimes I don't remember my children's ages, but I know the scale was published in 1997 in theScandinavian Journal of Gastroenterology and it serves to classify human feces into 7 categories, from the most intense constipation to the most watery diarrhea. It is a visual, detailed, and even creative instrument in its descriptions: it uses terms such as sausage, snake and spongy. Look for it, go.
The poop is not a minor issue at all. The crew of Artemis II knows this, of whom we know that the toilet didn't work for them for a few hours because, again, it was not a trivial matter. In fact, a study published in 2018 in Work concluded that train services should include a clean space for hand luggage and that women need it more, as we tend to carry more things and use more uncomfortable positions. I already knew the latter, of course, but I'm glad someone has looked for evidence because it's never a bad idea to park gender bias in science and stop belittling 49.7% of the world population, which is called soon.
Meanwhile, I had almost managed to clean my shoe when the neighbor from the third floor passed by, because Barcelona seems big, but deep down it's a town with an overdose of barbershops and bar places. "Buy a lottery ticket," she told me, and I was about to tell her that it's true that good things come out of even shit and if not, ask Matt Damon on Mars, but that the lottery wouldn't be one of them. They can explain it to you at the Catalan Mathematics Museum, which is a fantastic place where I learned that the probability of us winning the jackpot is 0.00001, and even so, every Christmas I fork out 20 euros just in case the work one wins, and this is due to a bias that in this case is not gender-based, but cognitive: our mind judges and decides based on the memories we have, and since we only see the images of joy of those who win and not the sadness of all those who lose, we allow ourselves to dream. So, let's call it science, because saying "Illusion is for fools" meant being too hard on myself.
