Have I ever told you about the old friend of mine who is deathly afraid of vomit?
I mean deathly afraid. Phobic.
The poor woman, everywhere she went, people were puking. It's true. Everywhere. Even on airplanes.
I don't know about you, but I have never had a person vomit on a plane near me. Happened to her all the time.
And it's crazy, because I went out with her one night and we were surrounded by people either about to vomit or in the act of.
For me it's shit. I am surrounded by all types of fecal matter on any given occasion.
Instead of being afraid of it, I just embrace it. (No, no not literally-gross, people c'mon!)
In my line of work, at home, everywhere.
This Saturday, I stepped in it in my bathroom. It wasn't me.
I went on to discover that one of my progeny had sharted and just left it.
Gotta love the 1 AM shower and sheet change.
I went into hysterical laughter in bed afterward over the word "shart" and later at Sunday dinner gazing at one of my other children, thinking of how mad they would be if they knew that their sibling had sharted in their bed.
Last night, I came home from picking B up from a work dinner.
I hobbled into the house (remember my back-doing much better thanks!) and was greeted by one of the kids (who will remain unnamed-you can probably figure out who it was, I'm sure)
The child ran up and called my name excitedly.
Suddenly both of our eyes were drawn to a small brown pebble that seemed to have tumbled from out of nowhere.
I said, "Is that a dog kibble?"
The child screamed, snatched it up and ran for the bathroom.
I shook my head sadly and said, "Gross."
You can't just make this shit up, ya know?