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Don’t Even Try It

August 4, 2008

I’m on to you, accursed witches.

Your godawful plots for my downfall were, briefly, thwarted upon my realization of past schemes and the summary dismissal from my turf within my abode.  However – Mother being a more gullable sort than I – we still allow you within our domain to render our floors sanitary and to re-shine our shiny objects and occationally brush dust from long-standing rarely used knick-knacks.

But I know what you’re up to.

And having detected your latest plot, not only am I now immune to the trick, but indeed, my vigilance against further attemps has been raised.

Ok, in all seriousness, how fucking hard is it to stick the goddamned bathmat down again after you’ve cleaned the tub?  Today I remembered past trials and checked the damn thing before getting into the shower at the godawful hour I got up so I could meet Tara for breakfast before Pride, but seriously gals, the last time I forgot I nearly broke my bloody neck after the bathmat – that refuge of traction and stability in an otherwise slick bathtub – moved underneath my weight as I stepped in for my morning (ish, I do work 4PM to midnight, so times of day are a dubious concept to me at best) shower.  The mat had not been stuck down, but instead merely replaced in seeming imitation of it’s usual state.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Tara permalink
    August 5, 2008 2:11 am

    Hah. The best part about this story is that you got up and showered and I slept, because you didn’t call me.

    I woulda sworn we’d agreed to meet downtown at 10, and that we’d work the rest out from there.

    …My tolerance for ambiguity is apparently higher than yours, though yours may in fact merely correspond directly to your inclination to stay in bed.

  2. August 12, 2008 3:06 am

    Replied, brat.

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