Wednesday, February 27

bad approach

Conlin barged into the bathroom earlier, holding old meat, and said, "I need you to tell me if this smells like poop."

And he seemed genuinely surprised that I refused his plea.  But really.  That was clearly a lose-lose situation.  Had he approached me with something along the lines of, "Hey, tell me if this chicken smells more like beef," I might have been intrigued by the strange, but plausible, meat conundrum; I might have even foolishly leaned in for a sniff.  But a guarantee of heinous smelling meat?  No, thank you sir.

And speaking of nonsensical things Conlin does: Have I told you about The Towel Incident?

Let me set the scene: Conlin was standing in front of the sink.  Hanging on our shower door was a towel.  Next to the toilet, toilet paper.
But then It happened. Conlin turned from the sink and nonchalantly blew his nose on our towel.  After I unstuck my face from its horror-stricken scowl, I managed: "Did you just-?  Okay.  Um."  I cleared my throat. "Two questions: first, why?  You are equidistance from the towel and the toilet paper.  Why would you choose the towel?"  To which he just responded with a shrug.  "Second, how long has this behavior been happening?"  His response?  As long as he can effing recall.  So, yeah.  That towel I'd been using to dry my freshly cleaned body?  Covered in his snot.
I think that's when I truly understood the implications of marriage.

Anyway, enjoy your [hopefully snot-free towel] Thursday.


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