The tender thumping of basses in parked cars that normally drifts through my neighborhood after dark was violently interrupted this evening by blood curdling screams coming from my kitchen.
My darling husband was standing outside in the cold with the dogs while I sifted through the dishes in the sink, trying to get all of the small items in the dishwasher. After doing so, I went to check to progress of some pans that had been soaking (because, you know, when you’re a wife I guess that’s what you do-check the progress of things soaking.) As I shifted the various pots and pans around, I noticed something lying next to the drain at the bottom of the sink. I *thought* I knew exactly what it was and I *thought* I knew exactly who was to blame.
You see, every Friday Ross has accountability time with MattWhite. They call accountability, I call it their tea party. There is a special box of tea set aside that is only for their meetings-we are not to touch that tea at any other time. Matt always drinks out of a red mug and Ross drinks out of his Mickey Mouse mug, the only novelty item found on a display rack actually printed with the name “Ross.” I know exactly which mugs they use because they always leave them in various parts of the house for me to find later. In efforts to curb this habit, I took action and spoke to MattWhite, because he’s a take action kinda guy. I was assured that the mugs would be in the sink post-tea party, and he has not failed me yet. However, I still find tea bags either caked in the mugs or to some surface very close to said mugs. I was sure that what I saw at the bottom of the sink was an almost week-old tea bag, the reminence of MattWhite’s and/or Ross’s carelessness. And I was ready to yell.
The shrill of “RRRRRRRRRROSS!!!!!!” was halfway out of my mouth when I reached down to pick up the “tea bag” and discovered it was a drowned mouse. My reproach was interrupted by a primal and desperate scream of utter disgust as I flung the mouse back down into the sink and threw myself against the screen door, unable to get Ross’s attention in a more civilized manner. While waiting for him, I proceeded to flail about the house, gagging slightly, and still screaming.
He ran inside, looking thoroughly confused by the sight of his wife well into a nervous breakdown. Eventually he managed to decipher my words. He peaked into the sink and said, “But it’s so small,” to which I responded, “I thought it was a tea bag. But the tea bag had BONES!!!!!!!” This explanation received the ever elusive Ross Catrow Full on Belly Laugh. But, being the brave soul that he is, my dear husband retrieved the furry and boney tea bag from the sink and placed it gingerly in the trash can outside. But not before I ordered him to take a picture for your enjoyment. I’ll put it up as soon as we get it off the camera. I hope the full extent of my trauma will be an enjoyable and fullfilling experience for you once completed. Count this post as just an appetizer…the main course is on it’s way. WOULD YOU LIKE TEA WITH YOUR DINNER?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?