The usual morning routine starts with Don letting me know he already had a bowl of cereal. He pushed past me in the doorway and made a beeline to the kitchen cookie jar. He knocks over everything in his way. If he gets in too big a hurry, his navigating system needs to recalculate. Objects appear up in his grill faster than he can process how to avoid it. Thus, a collision course is sure to happen.
He dribbled cookie crumbs all the way back to his room where I was searching for today’s NASCAR race on his TV. I ask if he needs anything more while scanning the room for empty bottles and cans or dirty dishes. I spot what looks like spilled Cheerios all over the floor.
Kristy: It looks like you spilled more cereal on the floor than you ate in that bowl for breakfast.
Don: Oh, yeah, about that ………
Kristy: Would it make sense that you should clean that up and throw all of it in the garage can right next to your refrigerator?
Don: Not really.
Note to Self: How barmy of me to suggest cleanup in the land of Don.
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