We've been eating the 100 miles thing recently. (And I had no idea how much food I eat comes from other countries.) It's actually been very easy, since we've been trying not to heat up the house and have been grilling a lot.
I was pretty sure B wanted some ears of corn or something when he called me at work.
B: The kids won't nap.
Me: (Of course not. It's freakishly hot.) Okay. Just put them in their swimsuits and take them out in the pool. I should be home soon, anyway.
B: Oh, Jess? Is that stuff in the fridge lip gloss?
B: Rosey just gave me this little plastic container that stinks to high hell. It's got some brown and grey goop in it. Is this one of those organic cosmetics you were talking about?
Me: Small plastic container? (dawning horror) Rosey didn't open that, did she?
B: No, she just handed it to me.
Me: Wash your hands. With soap. And Rosey's. NOW.
B: (running water noises, a hint of dread in his voice) That's not lip stuff, is it.
Me: No! It's cat shit.
The cat, you see, has problems. And the vet gives out teeny little lidded containers (and a tongue depressor) for...um, collection.
And I don't think I'm going to wear lip gloss for awhile.