As the Milk Foams

I've stopped drinking white chocolate lattes. Its part of my new me.

See, I work in the basement of my building, which is ironic, really, because who puts the health department in the basement? Especially in the Pacific Northwest.

It can be really challenging in January to get up in the dark, go to work in the dark, work in the basement, not see the sun for days or even weeks on end, and then go home in the dark. I think my new exercise routine will help with this.

I work downtown, which in my little community of 25,000 people isn't quite the same as downtown Chicago, but it's exciting all the same. In my town, the tallest building is four stories tall. Across the street my building, there's an independently-owned coffee shop. It's important to me that in my little community I patronize the locally owned businesses. We don't have a plethora of corporations in my little community, and there's a sense of taking care of your own, which includes indy buinesses. There's a Starbuck's kiosk in the Safeway that's across the other street from my building. But Starbuck's over-roasts their beans, and the result is a cup of Joe that tastes like a cup of what came from Joe's ass.

The owner of the indy coffee shop is simply lovely. And the baristas all know my name and what I drink. It's a bit like "Cheers" really. I walk in, everyone says "hello!", and then the girls say, "Are you having your white chocolate?"

Usually I say, "Yes, please!" And, they make a 16 ounce Ghirardelli's White Chocolate latte, no foam, with 1% milk. In my head, that's less calories than using 2% milk. But I'm not down with non-fat milk, so I just have them use 1%. They actually make the 1% by combining non-fat and 2%. It works, yo.

And, please understand that as part of being a resident in the Pacific Northwest, you have to be able to order coffee 12 different ways. Its part of our drivers' license test.

I've been going over to the indy coffee shop several times per week for the last three-and-a-half years. I get out of the basement. I get fresh air. I have the possibility to see the sun. I can get a lot of business done with my boss on those quick walks, especially on the days when she's swamped with meetings. I have the possibility of running into the attractive men from different departments that I occasionally get to work with on different projects. (Of course, I go home to Zel and say, "I saw my boyfriend at coffee today!" And sometimes Zel and I will have great sex, which burns also calories! But other times he says, "Well, if you keep drinking that shit, you're gonna get fat and your boyfriends aren't going to want to fuck you, and neither am I!")

But, that's a lot of lattes. A lot of calories. A lot of fat on my ass. And, a lot of dough at $3.68 each.

There's a person who, as part of my job, I'm required to meet with a couple of time a month, in a group setting, and this person has a way of making me want to poke her eyes out with my latte straws.

She's not nice, but I'm sure she thinks that she is. She's not very friendly; she's more like a rabid raccoon. She has an opinion about everything, which is fine, because opinions are like assholes: everyone has one. But, still, sometimes, I just want to tell her to be quiet. She's rude: she interrupts people while they are speaking, and tells them its not their turn to speak. It's always about her. In a nutshell, she's a Mega Pain in the Ass.

The scary thing is, about 18 months ago, the group voted her into this "leadership" position. Fortunately, her tenure is up in May. As Eric Cartman says, "You can call yourself leader until your ass bleeds, but that doesn't make it true!"

So, when I have to deal with her, I usually go across the street to the indy coffee shop and treat myself to my white chocolate latte.

However, since I'm working on my new me, I think that the 60 minutes I spent on the elliptical trainer today, where I pedaled for 5.62 miles and burned 550 calories, is going to be a complete waste of time, energy, and effort if I "treat" myself to a 420 calorie White Chocolate with 1% milk. When we exercise, it's not an automatic license to eat or drink whatever we want. Good idea! But, unfortunately, it doesn't work that way.

Please note, I found the above information on Diet Bites, and while the site only lists Starbuck's calories, I'm thinking the indy coffee shop is producing similar calories. According to Diet Bites, a Starbuck's White Chocolate Mocha made with skim milk has 400 calories, and one made with 2% milk as 440 calories, so I just figured that 420 is halfway between 400 and 440. A mocha and a latte are basically the same thing, really. That was a question on the drivers' license test.

By way of comparison, a few of my other favorite things: (both current and former)
2 ounce regular size Snickers = 273

3 Oreo cookies = 160 (note: 3 is a serving, but who in the hell just eats 3?! Honestly!!)

1 slice of veggie pizza = 215 calories (again, who in the hell eats just one slice of pizza?! Seriouslah!)

1 cup of air popped popcorn = 23 calories (what about the butter?! And, serve that shit up in a bowl! I ain't eatin' just one cup! And don't forget the parmesean cheese!)

8 ounce Margarita = 185 calories (enticing when compared to the WCL, but, I'm still not wanting to take a drink).

So, I will still go over to the indy coffee shop, because the owner and the baristas are quite lovely. But I will only drink regular coffee or perhaps a chamomile lemon tea, when I have to deal with the Mega Pain in the Ass.

No more 16 ounce Ghirardelli's White Chocolate lattes, no foam, with 1% milk. No more lattes, period. Unless I'm out of town at a conference.

Today at the gym

Today there were these young things who were maybe 20. And, they were cute, don't get me wrong. I've seen them for the past week or so. One of them wears a tank top and short shorts that say Corona on the ass in that same font as what's on the bottle.

I told Zel and he said, "As in the beer?"

I said, "Well, I don't think she's promoting the sun."

Anyway, so she and her friend are on the elliptical trainers, and I'm on an elliptical trainer some distance away, and another young girl goes on an elliptical trainer close to them and after a few minutes, she says, "This is pretty intense. How long do you guys usually do this for?"

Corona says, "Mmm...about 15 minutes."

Other girl: "Wow! That's a lot!"

Amatures. I do 45 minutes of hills on level 10. I'm not foolin' around. I wanted to say, "Why don't you come up to where the women work?"

But, if they feel they only need 15 minutes of elliptical training, so be it.

They don't have as much fat on their asses to work off as I do. I'm sitting on their futures.

Pancake Piggy

Flof is a pancake piggy. He loves pancakes.

Today, he was awarded the first pancake off the griddle. In our house, Sundays mean three things: 1. Football; 2. Pancakes; 3. I sleep as late as I want. Zel gets up and turns on ESPN's "NFL Sunday Countdown" and feeds Flof his breakfast of kibble and rice. He even shuts the bedroom door so I can sleep as late as I want. Zel's great.

The door gets shut because Flof sometimes whines at me. He says, "Muh-aaawwwmmm, you need to get out of bed and make me some pancakes!" Eventually, I drag my ass out of bed and make a pot of decaf for myself (Zel thinks coffee tastes like ass) and make pancakes for my boys.

Flof always gets to eat from the first batch of pancakes. I have a griddle, so I'm albe to make 3 pancakes at a time. Zel gets 2 and Flof gets 1. Really, though, he deserves more. I mean, who can refuse this face?!?

Last week, I overcooked the first 3, so they were pretty hard. Zel said they were like frisbees. But he ate them, because he knows whats good for him. Flof didn't complain; he's the smarter of the two in this instance. He doesn't stare a gift pancake in the mouth.

Then, because I overcooked the first 3, I under cooked my 2. They tasted like ass. So, I made 2 more for myself, which were much better.

Flof didn't feel good earlier this week. On Thursday, we woke up and he just wasn't himself. He was agitated and shivering so bad that his teeth were chattering and panting. It was 59 degrees in the house. Granted, he has on the thickest fur coat I've ever seen in my life, but he's not a panting dog, especially when its 59 degrees. I turned the heater on, because, even though I have enough fat on my ass to survive a couple of weeks without food, I'm not down with 59 degrees in the hosue.

Flof also didn't go into the kitchen when Zel made his turkey sandwich. When the dog isn't in the kitchen for a handout, something's seriously wrong.

So, I called Dr. Carmen's office, and she wasn't able to see Flof until 3:30 pm. Sweet Jesus. That was in 7 hours. In that time, Flof drank 4 bowls of water, which is at least twice the amount of water he consumes in a day. So, we went outside for him to pee like every hour. Fortunately, I work 20 hours/week and although I was scheduled to work on Thursday, I didn't have anything really pressing that I had to attend, so I called in. The main secretary in my office has 1 child, 3 dogs, and 2 horses, so she completely understood.

I told Flof we were going to see Dr. Carmen in the afternoon and that it was a good idea for him to take a lot of naps today. He didn't take a lot of naps because he was panting so hard. When he did nap, he was taking these shuddering inhales. I felt really horrible for him.

At 3:00, we started to get ready to go. I took Flof outside and, since he's had a couple of UTI's in the past, I figured I'd better bring Dr. Carmen some Flof urine. The only thing I had that I was willing to part with was a Philly Cream Cheese container.

When we went back inside Jennifer the receptionist called. Dr. Carmen was doing an emergency c-section, and would we mind coming in at 4:30, please? "Of course!", I said. "Giving birth is a big thing, and I'm not saying it's not more important than my dog's health, but does she really think she'll be able to see him at 4:30?" She said yes. Bye bye Stability Ball Class.

So, I tried to get Flof to take another nap. He wasn't really interested. He said, "But, Muh-aaawwwmmm, you said we were gonna see Dr. Carmen at 3:30!"

"I know," I said. "But Dr. Carmen is delivering babies right now and it's an emergency."

Flof said, "Its only an emergency if she's delivering puppies. If Dr. Carmen is delivering kitties, I'm going to emergency all over that kitty mom's ass! Goddamned cats."

Flof's not a fan of the kitties.

I called Zel to let him know about the time change. He was planning on meeting us there, since it is much easier to have both of us at the vet's office. Flof's a bit of a pussy when it comes to procedures at the vet's. Dr. Carmen is very PC about it. She says German Shepherds are worriers, and its ok, because it also means he's also a lover.

Once at Dr. Carmen's office, it was discovered that Flof had a bit of a fever, his urine wasn't really concentrated, and his left ear had both bacteria and yeast in it. This made me think that Flof's ear is really a vagina, because vaginas have a balance of yeast and bacteria. That's why licking pussy is good if a person has a sore throat!

Flof even got an anal probe. They took him out of the room for this one. Jennifer the receptionist assisted with this. Good thing, because Flof has an affinity for cute girls, and he's more likely to cooperate. However, we could hear the whining from the exam room. He said, "Goddamnit, Dr. Carmen, this isn't ok! Couldn't you have warmed up the glove before you anal probed me!?!?"

He also bitched to her about moving his appointment. She said that he could relax because the puppies and the mom are ok. He said, "Well, you better thank your lucky stars that you delivered puppies and not kitties because I would've been really pissed off if you moved my appointment to deliver kittens. Kittens are a bunch of pussies!" All this occurred whith her hand in his ass.

Twice a week, we have to douche out his ear. Twice a day, we have to put drops in his ears to take care of the yeast. The bacteria will be taken care of with the antibiotics.

Flof is on antibiotics twice a day for 10 days. This he enjoys, because it means he gets lots of sliced cheese. In a recent blood draw, Dr. Carmen did a geriatric pannel, because Flof's a senior dog of nealy 12 years old, she said his cholesterol is a bit high. She's also said that he looks like he doesn't miss too many meals. He weighs about 95 pounds. He's about 10 pounds overweight. Its probably because he spends most of his day sleeping on his couch. When you're a 12-year-old dog, you've earned the right to spend the day on the couch. Especially if you're going to read the newspaper, which he often does on Sundays.

Flof is feeling better today. He let me sleep in, and as a result, he had pancakes, as a pancake piggy should. He just finished reading the Sunday paper, and now it's time for his mid-morning nap.

It's Football Season

Well, it's football season.

I know because phrases like, "Break his fucking leg!" and "Trip, motherfucker!" come out of Zel. He yells like he's at the game and the team can hear him. He does not use his inside voice.

He mostly says this when the Dallas Cowboys are playing...mostly.

He sometimes says these things when he is rooting for a particular player on his fantasy football team, the Alien Anal Probes.

Of course, there are also great phrases when Dallas has the ball, including, "Run, bitch, run!" and "Catch that ball, motherfucker!" and "Wooohoo! Woohoohoohoo!!!!!" and "Show those Redskins who's boss!!!"

There is also an occasional bark....like a dog. Flof doesn't respond to this because he is smart enough to know the difference between a human bark and another animal's bark. He's the smartest dog in the world. He could be a doggie brain surgeon.

Sometimes, Zel even jumps up and down on the floor. This concerns me not because I think he may hurt himself but because our home is on a perimeter foundation. This means that our home is supported by concrete only around the perimeter. Its not like it is in the southwest, where there is an entire slab of concrete under the house, and that concrete helps to keep the house cooler in the 1,000,000,000 degree heat. In the Pacific Northwest, they use perimeter foundations because of the relatively mild climate. And, basements are a popular thing in the Northwest, unlike the southwest, and this is another reason for perimeter foundations. We don't have a basement, and basically Zel is jumping on plywood. My concern is that he's going to go right through the floor one day. Granted, he's going to have to gain about 200 pounds, but I still have a little concern. Sometimes I get visions in my head of Zel going through the floor and hitting the ground, which is about 2.5 feet below the floor. He'd look like Tom Hanks in "The Money Pit".

Sometimes, he goes into convulsions if Dallas has either a great play or a horrendous play. Seriouslah. It's like a seizure.

When the official makes a call that Zel doesn't agree with, he says something like, "Oh, bullshit, you fuck!!!"

This really only happens when we get Dallas games on TV. We're so far north and west of Texas that we just don't get a lot of games. For this, I praise the Gemma.

Sometimes our good friend Special K calls. She lives in Dallas. She has even called from the game sometimes, which, of course, is an impossible conversation because of the crowd that is screaming on her end of the phone. The phone calls usually come because she's seen a great play, or a bullshit play, and wants to know if Zel saw it, too.

Picture this: the cell phone rings its special "Special K ring", which is the rodeo. I can't describe the song, but I'm sure you can hear some rodeo music in your head. Zel says, "Hello?"

In her Texas accent, Special K says, "DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!?!" so loudly that I can hear her, no matter where I am in the house.

Two possible answers from Zel: "No. We didn't get the game. But I've been following it on the web." or "Dude! Can you believe that!?!?"

Sometimes, they'll even say things like, "We look like shit!" or "We look great!" depending on what's going on. But, they're not on the team. We've had several conversations about this, but they think they're on the team, so I just let it go.

Zel has been a fan of the Dallas Cowboys since birth. He once told me he came out of his mom rootin'. He said he even had pompoms. He was born there; he lived there till he was about 14. He even moved back to Dallas to attend the U of Texas at Dallas.

The funny thing is he doesn't have a Texas accent.

The other funny thing is, I hate the Dallas Cowboys. I was raised to hate the Dallas Cowboys, mostly because my Democratic parents hated the fact that JFK was assassinated there and that the Cowboys aren't "America's Team" and that there is a certain arrogance about the team.

So, when Dallas is on, it's really hard for me. I want them to do well, because then Zel is happy. However, secretly, I really want them to choke on it, like a bunch of bitches. But, the Cowboys recently picked-up Drew Bledsoe as their quarterback, and I would fuck him. He's a mega-hottie-super-babe. (The image of Drew was taken before he was a Dallas Cowboy, he played for the Buffalo Bills, and he lost this game to the New England Patriots, who he played for before he played for the Bills. I made him feel much better after this loss. In fact, he forgot all about it!)

When Dallas lost to their arch nemesis, the Washington Redskins on Monday Night, I had to listen to things like, "Stupid fucking game!" and "Piece of shit!" and "I hope you guys get reamed [by the coach]!" and "I hope that [Coach Parcells] chews their asses off!!!"

I had to wash my ears out they burned so badly from such foul language. Really though, language only comes out between September and January.

That's how I know it's Football Season.

The Apple Stem

Last night at dinner time, I wasn't very hungry, so I decided I would eat an apple and some peanut butter. I washed the apple, and then I twisted the stem out. With each twist, I said the corresponding letter under my breath. Little girls learn to do this at a young age. In Little Girl Land, the letter at which the stem comes out is the first initial of the name of the man we're going to marry. My stem came out at F.

Zel was making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and asked me what I was saying.

“F,” I said.

He gave me a quizzical look and said, “What?”

“F,” I said again. “The stem came out at F.”

“What the f does ‘F’ mean?!” said Zel.

“It means that I should've married a man whose name begins with F,” I said.

“YOU ARE NOT IN THE FOURTH GRADE!!!!” he yelled at me. He even stomped his foot.

“I’m sorry, who isn’t in the fourth grade?” I said. I mean, stomping your foot to get your point across is so fourth grade. He shook his head at me. There was probably an eye roll, but his back was too me as he returned to making his PB n’ J.

“So, according to this, I should’ve married someone whose name begins with F”, I continued. “You know, Fred, Frank.”

Zel shook his head at me again, “Jesus.”

“No, Jesus begins with a J.”

“Did you ever fuck someone whose name begins with F?”

“No. Not yet. Did you?”

“This isn’t about me,” he said.

We moved to the table to eat. “You didn’t have sex with your friend Fred from high school?”

“No,” I said. “I was afraid of black dick at that point in my life. Besides, I had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend, so it never happened.”

As Zel took a bit of his sandwich, I began to continue, “Ferdinand.”

“You fucked a Ferdinand?!”

“No,” I said. “I’m just saying I could’ve married a Ferdinand if one were to go by what the apple stem says.”

“What’s the farthest you ever made it on twisting the apple stem?” This is an unusual question. But, we’ve been married long enough that Zel knows that he needs to indulge me every once in a while.

I thought for a couple of seconds. “I’m not really sure, but I know I probably never made it much past R. Really, its amazing we ever went on a date, if you look at the what the apple stem says."

Stability Ball Class

I just finished my first week of Stability Ball Class. We meet twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Its a brand new class for beginners.

See, I just joined one of the three local gyms in my community. The first gym was a little scary...not very clean. I'm not paying for not clean. The second gym is used mostly by the baby boomers. Its not really a gym. It is actually the largest fitness franchise in the world, for women only, but its just machines. I need classes. I also need to see people my own age.

So, gym number three has classes and treadmills and eliptical trainers and they have a deal right now where you can join the gym for two months for only $20, with full membership privilidges. They challenge you to loose 10 pounds in 8 weeks, which is 1.25 pounds/week, and if you loose the weight, and you want to join the gym as a member, you can and they wave your registration fee, which is like $50. The way I see it, they're paying me $50 to loose 10 pounds.

Zel is all for this, by the way. He feels that not only will his wife look even hotter, he'll save $50. Furthermore, if someday we have kids, I'd hate to see this....

We sit on the ball, and lift weights. In a sitting position, we do curls and overhead presses. Then we lean forward, with flat backs, and do tricep work.

We roll onto our lower backs, and do sit-ups. Lifting our bodies forwards and then to each side.

We use the ball to make a bench with our bodies and lift weights. We did flyes and then we kept the right arm going while holding our left arms up. Then we switched sides. All the while, balancing on the ball. I'm not kidding.

We also did hamstring extensions and hamstring rolls. Why this dude is in a decent shirt, slacks, belt, and saddle shoes, I can't tell you. I'm not sure why he's dressed like this, other than his agent didn't tell him what to wear to the photo shoot. Maybe he's an intern. Maybe he just finished a round of golf.

We also did this inner thigh work, which was a mega-ass-kicker. We also dropped the ball into our own hands and then threw it back up and caught it with our legs. So, we really worked our inner thighs.

We also did a little yoga. But not quite like this! Look at those legs! Sweet Jesus! And that ass! You could bounce a quarter off that ass!!! Maybe someday....

I got my ass kicked. But I enjoyed it. I guess that makes me a bit of a masochist. Apparently there 35 masochists in class on Tuesday. The instructor said that for future classes, we were required to sign up. So, today there were 25 of us masochists in Stability Ball Class.

I was so sore on Tuesday night, that I woke up in the middle of the night and took two Tylenol. I got spanked. Rght now, Tylenol PM is calling my name.

I'm very much looking forward to next week.

Not off to a good start

The Alien Anal Probes, Zel's fantasy football team, isn't off to a great start. The players on the bench, who were considered for play today, scored more than the players who played.

That sucks.

The other team Zel is playing against, the Old Stooges, are pretty far ahead, and they have 3 players playing in Monday night' Philly game.

"Any chance you'll catch up?", I said.

"Only if all three of his players get hurt before the game," Zel said.

It's not looking good.

There's 65 bucks down the drain.

That's almost three dinners at my favorite Mexican food restaurant.

However, this is football. And there's always next week. When the Anal Probes stick it to the Viscious Wieners.

Stolen Sign

A sign notifying drivers that the Sheriff's Chain Gang is working ahead was stolen when they were out working this past Wedensday.

The Sheriff's Department speculates that the sign is hanging in someone's house, garage, or barn. They said the sign will cost $650 to replace.

They are asking residents to be on the lookout for the sign. The department also said its a popular sign, since it is rare when compared to stop signs.

$650. My tax dollars at work to replace a stolen sign.

Yippee.

Yard Work

Yard work is a bunch of bullshit.

Today, Zel and I rented a billy goat mower. We don't own a lawn mower, because we don't really have a lawn. So, once a year, around Labor Day, we rent a billy goat mower. That thing does not fool around. It can take down tall grass and saplings. It one mean machine. Seriouslah.

And then it stopped working.

We called the place we rented it from. They said to bring it back. We loaded it in the truck, and went back to the store. All the while, thanking the Goddess that the store is only about 4 miles away so we don't have to spend a bunch of money on gas going back and forth. We also passed the Sheriff's Chain Gang picking up trash and other things by the side of the road.

The belt for the blade fell off. Just fell off! Can you imaging if this was your car and you were going 60 mph and your engine's belt just fell off? Sweet Jesus! Think of the money that'd cost! Let alone the possible accidents.

Fortunately, we bought insurance to cover little mishaps. So, they gave us the other billy goat mower. Not that this is really an insurance issue. Bending the blade is an insurance issue.

And we loaded billy goat mower #2 up in the truck and went back home. We passed the Sheriff's Chain Gang again. On Sundays in the local newspaper, they report what the chain gang collected in the past week. Trash, old tires, syringes, aluminum cans that are taken to recycling. And sometimes, they collect some underpants and bras. How do these things end up on the side of the road? I can only speculate that there are some folks who feel it is appropraiate to throw their underwear and bras out of the window of their trucks. Or maybe they feel a need to brag about getting laid.

We finished the mowing. Which is good, because the grass was like five feet tall. I'm not kidding. I'm 5'2", and actually, some of the grass was taller than me. It's actually hay. Maybe we should get a billy goat, and then we wouldn't have to worry about mowing.

I also used the trimmer, but it ran out of twine. And I raked. I'm not fond of these activities, but its a good strength training program. And my heart rate rose, which is good. Unless you're dying, then that's bad. But I think it was good.

Then we loaded up BG#2 in the truck and went on back to the store to drop it off because we were done.. Passed the chain gang going to the store and again on our way home. Three of them were painting a fire hydrant. The other two were picking up trash. I'm not sure why it takes three people to paint a fire hydrant.

Zel said, "Do they actually wear chains?"

"Yes," I said.

I work for the government, and I know these things. They have shackels on their legs. And they're accompanied by a deputy. And the side of their big white mobile unit says "Sheriff's Chain Gang" in green and gold. Not very politically correct, but you're on the chain gang, which means you're in jail, and granted, you're on the chain gang because you're good while you're serving your time, but you're still in jail. Do you really need to worry about being incognito when you're working in an orange jump suit by the side of the road? Don't get me wrong, I think they do great work and I think its a great program for the inmates. But, you know what I'm sayin?

Those chain gang dudes do a lot of work.

We did a lot of yard work today.

Yard work is a bunch of bullshit.

Drugs Or Jesus

Tim McGraw has a song called "Drugs Or Jesus" on his new album "Live Like You Were Dying". God bless the record company execs for properly spelling dying by adding a g.

What the lyrics say is, basically, is things are black and white in the world. That we all want the truth.

Based on the title of the song, if you choose drugs, you're screwed. In order to not be screwed, you need to choose Jesus.

What about those people who are addicted to drugs? I suppose one could be addicted to Jesus (W?).

What about those of us who didn't choose either? Are we still screwed? I guess so.

There's even a little Hallelujah chorus at the end of the song. Does that mean people have to stand up when Tim sings "Drugs or Jesus", like the masses did when King George II stood for Hallelujah Chorus in Handel's "Messiah"?

Tim McGraw is no longer hott.

Little Red Hen

I am the Little Red Hen.

I wash the clothes and put them away. I change the sheets and clean the bathroom and change the towels and vacuum the entire house. I dust, I cook, and I even do windows, which includes the skylights, but only from the outside because I'm 5'2" and can't reach the inside, even with a ladder, because the ceiling is 12 feet tall.

Zel usually helps me do the dishes (we don't have an automatic dishwasher). He sometimes helps me vacuum by moving the chairs around the dining room table. Please note, I am not complaining about those two activities; just the rest of maintaining a home.

Zel sometimes helps me change the sheets and fold the laundry. But, mostly, that's my area of expertise.

But, really, I'm responsible for cleaning. Zel and Flof are responsible for making messes.

Today, I changed the sheets on our bed. Zel said, "do you want help?"

Usually, he helps me, and I really do appreciate the help.

But, I saw him picking at his nose and then he wiped his nose with his hand. And so I said, "nope."

"Why not," he said.

"Well, nose-picker, do you really think that your snots should go on these clean sheets?" I said.

"That's fine. I won't help you. You just go on and do your slit work," said Zel.

Sweet Jesus. "Slit work". Well, beats dick work.

So, I changed the sheets. And then the clothes dryer finished drying the clothes. Whites. That means a lot of his socks and his panties.

"Do you want help?" said Zel.

"Are your hands clean?" I said. The reason I'm into clean hands is because dirty hands spread germs.

About 1 1/2 years ago, Zel had a staph infection in his blood stream, and it affected his heart. The doctors were never able to determine how the staph bacteria infected Zel. They said that staph is a bacterium that is on our bodies all the time. So, it's possible that he came down with the flu or a cold and then the staph seized the opportunity. An opportunistic infection, if you will.

Back to the laundry. He said some inaudible complaint about me under his breath. But, he washed his hands and then he folded some clothes. And, believe me...the Little Red Hen appreciated the help.

Maybe he'll get lucky later.