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crankylexMy life is about shit.
Cat shit, ferret shit, pigeon shit.
I wish I could understand how my naked, defenseless foot has become a magnet for tiny, secret piles of ferret shit.
Fresh ferret shit.
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ragingpixie knows my pain.
On a funnier shit-related aside, the other day, The Man took the garbage out. He put on his loafers to do so. When he came back in, he took them off and sat on the couch. He happened to look down, and in a puzzled voice, said, "Babe? What is on my sock?"
I checked it out, and it was...
You guessed it.
I figured he stepped in it somehow, so I checked his path from where he left the loafers. No trail. So I assumed the position and began checking the carpet for evidence undetectable to the naked eye.
He went over to his loafers. Inside one of the shoes was...
You guessed it.
One of the cats shit in his shoe.
That poor, poor man.
Cat shit, ferret shit, pigeon shit.
I wish I could understand how my naked, defenseless foot has become a magnet for tiny, secret piles of ferret shit.
Fresh ferret shit.
ragingpixie knows my pain. On a funnier shit-related aside, the other day, The Man took the garbage out. He put on his loafers to do so. When he came back in, he took them off and sat on the couch. He happened to look down, and in a puzzled voice, said, "Babe? What is on my sock?"
I checked it out, and it was...
You guessed it.
I figured he stepped in it somehow, so I checked his path from where he left the loafers. No trail. So I assumed the position and began checking the carpet for evidence undetectable to the naked eye.
He went over to his loafers. Inside one of the shoes was...
You guessed it.
One of the cats shit in his shoe.
That poor, poor man.
