Gadzooks, people! The things I have to put up with! Er, with which I must put up? Anywho, it boggles the mind! The Big Guy (need I say more? At least I am not picking on The Spouse this time, though he has been a super good sport about it all) spiced up my morning with a new improved antic. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Big Guy, I would love to give you a Mr. Linky to previous posts about him but I am too lazy to learn how to do it though I do have a site bookmarked that will teach me how. I’ll get there one day, I promise. Meanwhile, you can catch up if you read the posts under Favorite Posts. Honest.
For now, let’s just say that the Big Guy is nearly 19 and one of the most unique individuals on the planet. Yessirree-bob! Lately he has been doing his big bathroom job in the A.M. (that's not the unique part) which is really stinky, in more ways than one, because The Spouse is not home to help when The Big Guy runs out of toilet paper. Needless to say, I fill the room with rolls of toilet paper and I even start them for the Big Guy, meaning, I get that end piece detached from the rest of the roll because the Big Guy just can’t seem to manage this small feat. The point is, the room is filled with “started” rolls of T.P. Fairly brimming with it.
However, the Big Guy just can’t handle a roll of toilet paper unless it is attached to the device made for such things—and he can’t get that darn roll of toilet paper on said device. He just can’t! Blame the lack of fine motor skills AND big bear paws, to boot.
This morning, as previously mentioned, I was running the dishwasher and singing along to my blog playlist (which is public, by the way! Did anyone know that you can google someone’s name and their playlist comes up? Yeah! I know! Talk about invasion of privacy! Never mind that my playlist is on my blog for all the world to see! Sheez!) so there was a lot of noise. Plus, I suffer from the deafness of the aged. As a result, I did not hear the Big Guy bellow from the bathroom that toilet paper service was needed. As a result, the Big Guy had to make a decision. As a result, he chose to use an alternative source, one that is gross (that is, grosser than what I have already written) so I won’t mention it. As a result, he had to get rid of “it”. As a result, he wiped it in the sink. As a result, I discovered this added décor when I finally did hear his bellowing.
I have been told that as a toddler, my twin sister and I painted the walls with our diaper contents after a nap if someone didn't come to release us from nap-time prison, pronto. That would usually be one of my sisters whose job was then to clean up the mess. Sue. Peg. Barb. Consider this payback.
For now, let’s just say that the Big Guy is nearly 19 and one of the most unique individuals on the planet. Yessirree-bob! Lately he has been doing his big bathroom job in the A.M. (that's not the unique part) which is really stinky, in more ways than one, because The Spouse is not home to help when The Big Guy runs out of toilet paper. Needless to say, I fill the room with rolls of toilet paper and I even start them for the Big Guy, meaning, I get that end piece detached from the rest of the roll because the Big Guy just can’t seem to manage this small feat. The point is, the room is filled with “started” rolls of T.P. Fairly brimming with it.
However, the Big Guy just can’t handle a roll of toilet paper unless it is attached to the device made for such things—and he can’t get that darn roll of toilet paper on said device. He just can’t! Blame the lack of fine motor skills AND big bear paws, to boot.
This morning, as previously mentioned, I was running the dishwasher and singing along to my blog playlist (which is public, by the way! Did anyone know that you can google someone’s name and their playlist comes up? Yeah! I know! Talk about invasion of privacy! Never mind that my playlist is on my blog for all the world to see! Sheez!) so there was a lot of noise. Plus, I suffer from the deafness of the aged. As a result, I did not hear the Big Guy bellow from the bathroom that toilet paper service was needed. As a result, the Big Guy had to make a decision. As a result, he chose to use an alternative source, one that is gross (that is, grosser than what I have already written) so I won’t mention it. As a result, he had to get rid of “it”. As a result, he wiped it in the sink. As a result, I discovered this added décor when I finally did hear his bellowing.
I have been told that as a toddler, my twin sister and I painted the walls with our diaper contents after a nap if someone didn't come to release us from nap-time prison, pronto. That would usually be one of my sisters whose job was then to clean up the mess. Sue. Peg. Barb. Consider this payback.
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