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Posts Tagged ‘toilet’

Husband may have to go.

There is nothing on earth, that I hate as much as crawly things without legs.  (Opps!  That did not come out right.  I don’t mean to say he is a crawly thing without legs.  He just likes to ignore things that need to be done.)  Now, my hatred does not include larger things, like snakes, which are also crawly and without legs.  Although, after I found a snake in the basement, it did take me about six months to stop searching the basement floor for snakes everytime I went down there.  I am quite sure they know it is me descending the stairs and they then hide behind the washing machine, or on a more evil note, the toilet so as to scare the holy s__t out of me.

But, show me a maggot and I will become a quivering mass of jelly.  A quivering mass who will sit on the couch for days making sure I do not have one of those things on my skin or in my hair.

So, the other day we had tiny little fruit flies; LOTS of tiny fruit flies.  Husband took out the inside garbage and hosed the can down inside and the lid and also did it to the outside cans.  He did not tell me he had found maggots in the lid.  The lid which I put my hand in and brush the top of.  So, this week those same flies are everywhere.  I tell husband, that’s it, the garbage can goes outside (the inside kitchen one.)  I was refusing to use it.

He took the can out, bleached it, did not wash the outside (I have no idea why that bothers me, but it does) and then proceeds to come in and tell me that the whole domed  lid was covered in ::::::::::   MAGGOTS.  OMG, MAGGOTS.

Freakin, I stuck my hand in that lid.  I felt the warmth and humidity and probably touched them.  OMG, MAGGOTS.

I’m off to shower now, for about five hours.

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I did forget a story mom told Master’s daughter and myself, before she fell asleep in the motel. 

 

She and dad were visiting a relative many, many years ago and dad was very upset because their shaggy dog was drinking from the toilet

 

Picturing the state of the toilet, I could see this might seem gross to him. Our dog’s dish was washed regularly.  And, dogs like to lick their owners. So, I can see where that might gross out my obsessive parents.

 

But, mom said that was not it.  The truth, she told us, was:

 

“He was afraid to get dog hair on his butt.”

 

 

I shall leave you there with all sorts of visions in your head, as Master’s daughter and I dissolved into laughter at the possibilities.

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