Don't get too excited. I'm not being helicoptered into the desert to prove what we all already know: I hate bugs and probably have very few survival skills. But I do sometimes feel as though I live with a bunch of wild animals. Whether it's Sadie who seems to be throwing up every other day or Grady who has been having accidents in his crate once a week, it seems that we are constantly cleaning up after these animals. And then there's Pat. I know that part of it isn't his fault and that by just being a guy, he will naturally do some things that I find disgusting.
On Sunday, I watched him take off his socks, the same socks he had been wearing all day long, and roll them up into a ball. I assumed he was rolling them up and taking them right to the laundry basket so Grady wouldn't try to eat them. I watched him walk out of the office and turn left to walk into our bedroom rather than walking straight into the bathroom where the dirty clothes basket is located. He then took those socks and put them in his sock drawer as if he had just taken them right out of the dryer. My jaw was probably hanging wide open. I was feeling somewhere between disgusted and dumbfounded.
I had a choice to make. I could either pretend like I didn't see what just happened and act like it was the first time. Of course this isn't a regular occurrence. Right? Please tell me this isn't a regular occurrence! Or, I could call him out on it and not only acknowledge that I witnessed this disgusting act, but also let him know that I strongly oppose!
Of course I did number two. I told him I found it disgusting and tried to talk him into putting them in the dirty clothes. My efforts were unsuccessful. His argument, although well thought out and very well articulated, did not make me feel better. He argued that even though he had been wearing them all day, he hadn't endured any serious physical activity in them and therefore, it was almost as if he had never worn them at all. Speechless, I decided to let it go.
Tonight, as I was lying in bed perusing the world wide web on my laptop, he walked into our bedroom with his guilty grin - the smile he makes when he's either lying or doing something he knows he shouldn't be doing. While I was trying to figure out what he was hiding, he was walking over to our dresser and opening the drawer. That's when I saw them. A pair of socks rolled up that he was trying to sneak in the drawer. "Please tell me those aren't the socks you've been wearing all night and during our half an hour walk in the rain with our dog." His grin got bigger and I knew that they were. "It was cold out so it doesn't count," was his response.
There goes my theory about this whole reusing of the socks thing being a one time incident. If we were in a position where we couldn't afford more than one or two pairs of socks, or to do our laundry for that matter, I would be much more understanding in this situation. Hey Pat, your college years called and guess what they said? Not only are you no longer living in a bathroom in a house with seven other guys, but you also have your own washer and dryer and a drawer full of clean socks. Well, I used to think they were clean...
On Sunday, I watched him take off his socks, the same socks he had been wearing all day long, and roll them up into a ball. I assumed he was rolling them up and taking them right to the laundry basket so Grady wouldn't try to eat them. I watched him walk out of the office and turn left to walk into our bedroom rather than walking straight into the bathroom where the dirty clothes basket is located. He then took those socks and put them in his sock drawer as if he had just taken them right out of the dryer. My jaw was probably hanging wide open. I was feeling somewhere between disgusted and dumbfounded.I had a choice to make. I could either pretend like I didn't see what just happened and act like it was the first time. Of course this isn't a regular occurrence. Right? Please tell me this isn't a regular occurrence! Or, I could call him out on it and not only acknowledge that I witnessed this disgusting act, but also let him know that I strongly oppose!
Of course I did number two. I told him I found it disgusting and tried to talk him into putting them in the dirty clothes. My efforts were unsuccessful. His argument, although well thought out and very well articulated, did not make me feel better. He argued that even though he had been wearing them all day, he hadn't endured any serious physical activity in them and therefore, it was almost as if he had never worn them at all. Speechless, I decided to let it go.
Tonight, as I was lying in bed perusing the world wide web on my laptop, he walked into our bedroom with his guilty grin - the smile he makes when he's either lying or doing something he knows he shouldn't be doing. While I was trying to figure out what he was hiding, he was walking over to our dresser and opening the drawer. That's when I saw them. A pair of socks rolled up that he was trying to sneak in the drawer. "Please tell me those aren't the socks you've been wearing all night and during our half an hour walk in the rain with our dog." His grin got bigger and I knew that they were. "It was cold out so it doesn't count," was his response.
There goes my theory about this whole reusing of the socks thing being a one time incident. If we were in a position where we couldn't afford more than one or two pairs of socks, or to do our laundry for that matter, I would be much more understanding in this situation. Hey Pat, your college years called and guess what they said? Not only are you no longer living in a bathroom in a house with seven other guys, but you also have your own washer and dryer and a drawer full of clean socks. Well, I used to think they were clean...
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