, , ,

Last night I threatened to beat S to death with a paint brush gently reminded S about putting a fresh hand towel up when he removed the dirty one. This morning, I see this:


Does he really not know the difference between a washcloth and a hand towel? He can’t see that it’s significantly smaller? Really? Or is he involved in some diabolical plot to drive me slowly mad?

He should really tread lightly. I’m feeling kind of stabby today. Which reminds me, I went to high school at a place called STAB. Well, technically it was St. Anne’s Belfield, but all of the school gear like t-shirts and bumper stickers said STAB. For the sports teams they had things like STAB Soccer and STAB Lacrosse. When traveling out of state in the family Volvo with your STAB Football bumper sticker on it, you have to wonder what people who didn’t know about the school must have thought. Why such violent feelings towards a sport, for heavensake? And wouldn’t stabbing the football cause it to deflate? That’d make it way harder to play with. I wasn’t big into sports, but I used to really wish that they’d had a bumper sticker that said STAB Artists. Except that someone might think I really meant it and try to stab me. So maybe the school was right to not make gear like that. Even if you weren’t supporting my dream, thank you for protecting my life, STAB, thank you.