Don emerges from his bedroom, wide-eyed after a mid-summer night’s nap, and asks for ice cream. He shuffles to the dining room table where I deliver the bowl of ice cream. Almost immediately after seating himself, he rises and races off, mumbling something about he must go to the bathroom first. Uh oh.
I was all set up with a blanket on the couch, a cat sleeping on each side of me, a whiskey drink at my fingertips, a brand new TV and fresh batteries in the remote. Was so looking forward to some serious USA kick butt Olympics. Don slows down and is walking into the kitchen area, burdened by a load in his pants that almost touches the ground. He requests help. I look at him and then I look at the TV. We are talking about the USA women gymnasts triumphantly walking away with the gold, and I just have to walk away.
It’s a strip and shower show this evening in the primary suite of my house, so we start at the top with his sweatshirt. Most of his sweatshirts have pockets. As I help him remove the sweatshirt, so he doesn’t lose his balance, I feel a square box in his sweatshirt pocket.
Kristy: What’s this square box in your pocket?
Don: Soap.
Kristy: Why do you have a square box of soap in your pocket? Where did you get it?
Don: I found it downstairs.
Kristy: When were you downstairs?
Don: Right before I came upstairs.
Kristy: OK, let’s talk about the soap. Do you want this brand (Sasquatch) of soap?
Don: Yeah, that’s fantastic stuff.
Kristy: But I put that downstairs for guests.
Don: They can get their own soap.
Kristy: They are guests, Donald, and you should not pocket guest soap from a guest bathroom. I will get you the same soap for your bathroom.
We finish undressing Don and he finally ends up in the shower with a new hand-held showerhead tool to thoroughly clean that crotch that is in desperate need of attention. While I clean up the rest of the bathroom, I see water shooting out of the shower stall. I’m talking 5 feet in the air, over the shower door, and into my face.
Kristy: Don, turn off the water. You are flooding the bathroom!
Don: I can’t, it’s too slippery.
I open the shower door and am instantly hit with a wall of water that drenches me and fogs my glasses. It’s like grabbing a fire hose with enough pressure to end up like a car wash water fight.
Kristy: I got it! Turn around and bend over so we can finish cleaning up this disaster.
Don: Do what?
Kristy: OMG, please don’t make me say it again.
Five bath towels, half a roll of big boy Brawny paper towels and 45 minutes later, we are ready to go back to the dining room table for ice cream.
Don: This ice cream didn’t even melt.
Kristy: You need your glasses.
I missed it all on TV for Olympic history this evening, so I started locking up for the night after taking out some most undesirable garbage. When I get to the second floor in the house on my return from the outdoor garbage can, I discover Don not only stole soap from the guest bathroom, he also started coffee for those guests who left 2 days ago.
Note to Self: I’m gonna need more whiskey.