I work at home and everyday my housemate storms through the house like the Tasmanian Devil during his half an hour break between working at the ski store and coaching the ski team. It is truly amazing to what level my serene home-post can be disrupted, destroyed and just plain d-mowed in those short 30 minutes.
Today, hollered from behind the closed bathroom door:
"Do you have any latex gloves?"
I don't even want to respond and if I do—I am not willing to participate in a hand-off that requires reaching around the bathroom door. I have boundaries. But I am curious now and completely distracted, so:
"Um, no…WHY?"
"Well, I dropped your comb in the toilet."
Great... Don't even want to know how my comb got implicated in this debacle.
"We have some Ziploc bags."
"No, uhhhh…"
"Oh, I see. The comb has company in the bowl, well…shit, yeah shit. What about those stupid noodle tongs that have never worked, just grab and toss. Toss the comb and tongs?"
"No, we might want those someday even though they don't work. Oh well."
Apparently, "Oh well" translates in housemate speak to: "He will flush the toilet and leave the comb in there for me to deal with later." Which considering we only have one bathroom will likely be SOON. There is some odd Pavlovian connection between knowing there is no accessible toilet that makes one need to use one immediately.
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