So my husband wakes me up around 5:30 this morning because of his shuffling out the door to head to work.
Usually I just roll back over to sleep..but for some reason, this morning I stayed up for a bit.
After a few minutes of laying in bed, I decided I needed to urinate.
So that's what I did.
And imagine my surprise when I look down past the roll of toilet paper and see a swarm of little ants covering our bathroom garbage.
My entire body shuddered and I nearly puked.
Why the hell was there a colony of bugs in the place where I release my bodily fluids?
It's actually a simple answer: Dipshit left an apple core in the waste basket.
An apple core!
Come on...didn't your mom ever yell at you when you lived at home about that kind of stuff. I know my mother did. I wasn't allowed to eat anywhere besides the kitchen table, let alone leave food in the bathroom.
That being said..I do currently live on the wild side and totally eat in our bedroom. Maybe it has something to do with the whole....still rebelling against mom...thing.
But back to the topic at hand. After cleaning up the garbage (spraying the crap out of it and tossing the apple remnants into the kitchen garbage where it belongs) I decided to give my husband a courtesy call about what he had done. Mind you, it was still before 6 in the morning.
Hey sweetie..I'm not calling to yell, just wanted to let you know that you left an apple core in the bathroom garbage and subsequently a pile of ants have accumulated in the area where we bathe ourselves. I love you, please don't do it again, OK?
Whatever, that's shit (he says) and then hangs up.
Not exactly the answer I was looking for.
So I go back to bed.
I wake up several hours later to find this message on Gchat:
K, I get it. I'm not a dog. You don't call me to rub my face in it. I didn't call u when I had to scoop three loads of apples out of the sink three days ago but that's not the point.
WHAAT.
Listen...you are 28 years old (or 27, whatever I dunno) come on! You do not leave food in an open container like that where it can mix with your own fecal matter and my excrement. I wasn't rubbing his face in it...I was simply and kindly trying to tell him he's a sick bastard.
And sure...maybe I did leave a bunch of sliced apples from a homemade sangria in the sink that sat there for a week. But like he said...that's not the point.
The point is: husband are like dogs. Sometimes you have to rub their nose in it.
JENNYMILK
