Thursday, June 28, 2012

The Hairband, The Toilet, & The Toothbrush

I was in a sleepy, Sunday morning, slumber when Doc H stumbled from bed towards the bathroom. I laid in my warm little cocoon trying to find my way back to the sandman.

The door to the bathroom shut (loudly) and just as quickly as he entered, the door re-opened.

"Emma! Why is you hairband in the toilet?!"

I tried to open my eyes, but all I could muster was a squint as I was bombarded with Sunday morning sunshine.

I wrestled within sleepy myself to find my voice "Ugh! I don't know!" How in the hell am I supposed to know anything at this early hour?

Doc H was already fumbling down the hall to the kids bathroom. "Well, you need to fish it out!"

{Good Morning to you, too, my love. Sleep bully. Sleep bully. Sleep bully!}

The door to the hall bath shuts (loudly).

{Hey, man! I'm trying to sleep! Don't you worry, I'll fish it out. I'll fish it out alright! I know exactly how I'll do it, too!}

Just then I hear the bathroom door open and Doc H yells, "And don't use my toothbrush, either!"
Darn!

Plan foiled.

Fine!

Where's his hairbrush?




1 comment:

  1. Oh hells no. I have to say that all toilet-related matters are the man's job to deal with! Also, as a fellow health professional, Doc H deals with MUCH nastier stuff than a toilet and he can't deny it!

    I've been very sleepy faced this summer, and The Lawyer has to get up to go to work and I don't have to leave the bed. There would be serious stink eye and guilting if he made me get up to get my hairband (or my anything) out of the toilet!

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