It’s Not Proper

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WARNING: Scatological humor

I’m a morning person. I wake up early and raring to go, which usually lasts about an hour or two, and then I feel I have to go back to sleep and take a nap. My personal magic hour starts when I wake up of my own accord at around 5 or 6. Unfortunately this golden moment is all too brief, and I often meander off to school exhausted or befuddled because I lost track of time. I was in such latter state the other day, rushing to finish all morning rituals, doing a dance of double-takes gather all my pocket knick knacks and gadgets, fighting my garage door, and, on the road, having my daily forehead slap, this time for neglecting to take out the trash. Turns out, though, that there was one more thing I forgot.

I forgot to flush the toilet. No. 2, not No. 1.

Yes, indeedy. My poor long-suffering wife, who’s not a morning person but a light sleeper, who is started out of dreamland every time I stumble out of bed and every time I forget there’s a second alarm, who must occasionally drag herself out of bed to aid in a particularly frustrating bout with the garage door, who then struggles to go back to rest and respite for the next few hours, who finally comes to at around 9 (or 10 or 11), was stopped in her tracks in our narrow hallway by a disturbing odor.

“Surely that is not what I think it is.”

Her mind now rapt and alert, considers the possibilities. Is it possible that Tom now wrought something so foul and potent that it has continued to linger for this long? Or…surely not.

Oh, but it was. Later, I profusely apologized. Later still, this exchange was heard in the Kim household:

D: “Does your stomach hurt?”

T: “No. Why?”

D: “Because you’ve got the nastiest poo.”

T: “It’s like that all the time.”

D: “How can it possibly be like that all the time? … It’s not proper.”

But it could have been worse. I’ve had some piles that… well, let’s just say that not only do I look pregnant, but I’ve already given birth to a pair of repulsive twins. There was a run when, for several mornings, it looked like a meteor had landed in the toilet bowl, still steaming from re-entry. Easily a 3, 4, 5 flusher. And I’m sparing you the gory details.

I had one of those suckers while I had ‘roids, and I literally ran screaming out of the bathroom, tugging at Dana to protect me from the unholy abomination I had ejected.

gross, humor, dana-ism?, morning

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