So today is my happy birthday that didn’t start out very happy because it began with a noise.
In my bathroom.
And I, as most everyone (okay everyone) in my family knows, am a light sleeper.
So I was confused when I heard a strange noise, and wondered – as one does when one wakes up to a noise that makes no sense – wondered if I really heard the noise. As in, perhaps it was a dreamnoise (which isn’t in Wikipedia yet, but should be, as those types of noises command a great deal of description).
But then it was completely silent in my bedroom.
And I mean completely.
So I was pretty settled on the dreamnoise theory I had conjured up just minutes before.
And I got up and headed for the bathroom.
Where I was surprised and accosted by an intruder!
I was shocked and screamed when the Nearly Perfect Husband popped his head out of the potty closet and said I could not come in.
So then I…
Oh, I’m sorry. That’s right. You would probably know it as the ‘Commode Alcove’.
Because that is what it was labeled on my architect plans, that’s why.
And doesn’t everyone have a ‘Commode Alcove’?
I know. And mine even has a slide-y door.
A Potty Closet with a sliding door is totally de rigueur if you ask me, which you didn’t but now I am positive you agree with me once you double check Wikipedia to make sure you know what that means…
Totally required by etiquette or current fashion.
Also, I keep my shower in my Potty Closet.
Because why not, that’s why.
So anyway, the Nearly Perfect Husband was in the Potty Closet and I couldn’t see what he was doing but he scared the frack out of me but Marshal seemed just fine, per the photo above.
Then, a few minutes later, I was allowed into the bathroom – including the Potty Closet – and then it made perfect sense what exactly the strange noise was earlier this morning and…
As an aside, I accused the Nearly Perfect Husband of being a media whore right after I saw this, because it is the equivalent of the perfect sound bite for a cub reporter. Of COURSE it was going in my blog! (I am married to a publicity slut).
So then Marshal Dillon Dingle was behind me and I was thinking that he was probably very confused because all these chewy centers were piled up, just out of his reach (even if he used the toilet as a step-ladder. Which is not beyond his ability (yes, I know this to be fact).
So I looked at him and he was clearly distressed…
And I thought, ‘Right, Marshal Dillon Dingle. So not fair to you!” (Though I must say I was very impressed by the sheer number of Chewy Centers that had to have been collected in order to build a Chewy Center Castle just for me on this day).
Also, I’m pretty sure I heard Marshal Dillon Dingle mumble something about an embarrassment of riches.
So then I went downstairs and oh what a morning because I have two brand new champagne glasses (I can never decide on a ‘pattern’ and have commitment issues, so JoHn buys champagne glasses in pairs and then you can choose from many different kinds when you come to my house :)) (I had the same issue with Christmas plates. When you eat over at Christmas time, the table is rather…. varied (I prefer ‘eclectic’ (and, in few more years, please use the word, ‘eccentric’))).
And, also, I got the best card ev-ah!
So my morning, though it started out iffy, ended up rather spiffy and shiny and happy.
Because who doesn’t want a morning that starts with a Chewy Center Castle and is then punctuated by coffee in a champagne glass, next to a card complete with flying pigs and the word ‘freakin”?
Thanks for readin’.
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