Don: Have you seen my cologne?
Kristy: Yes, it’s in the top drawer in your bathroom.
Don: I looked, and I couldn’t find it.
Kristy: Does that surprise you when you can’t see a glass of beer sitting on the table in front of you on your left side?
Don: Yeah, kinda. With this many boys in the house, it seems to have disappeared.
Kristy: I can assure you any males in the house don’t use cologne or have their own. They don’t need yours.
Don: I should have put some on before I walked around the lake. It was an enjoyable walk.
That’s a first. Don has referred to the ocean as a golf course, a naval aircraft carrier base, a shopping mall, and the Columbia River, but never a lake.
The only walking that boy has done of late, without supervision, is from his bedroom to the liquor cabinet. He filled up a tall plastic cup with whiskey, set the cup on the kitchen breakfast bar and left it there. It looked like apple juice, and everyone ignored it for hours. Then I gave it the smell test. The Pendleton Hard Lemonade, concocted by Don, contained too many mysterious ingredients to chance consumption.
Note to Self: The nerve of this guy to waste my whiskey.
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