Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Rock, Paper, Scissors... shoot.

While this post doesn't come with a picture (and that's for the better, trust me) it probably will probably make you laugh.
 Last weekend, my husband and I had just woken up and were puttering around the house when we heard the cat making a terrible coughing noise.
"Uhh, sweetheart? Did you -" said charlie, speaking up so I could hear him from the kitchen. But we both had already walked out to the hallway and had discovered what we were dreading. Yeah, you guessed it. The cat had thrown up. While it only took us a half of a second to recognize this pile as being what used to be cat food, it took us a great deal longer to figure out how - or who - was going to deal with it. First, my husband and I stood there and contemplated our dilemma. This was our first run-in with such an issue in our new house. And, I'm sure, it was one we both were hoping to avoid as long as possible. But obviously, our wishes had not been granted. So there we stood. Him at one end of the hallway and me at the other. For awhile we just looked at the floor. Then we looked up at each other. Then back down at the floor. It was clear that neither one of us wanted to be the lucky cleaner-up-er. Then there was a few "I don't really wanna..."'s and "Do you mind maybe..."'s and "Can't you?"'s mumbled back and forth between us in between quiet nervous laughter. Then I got an idea.
"Okay," I said, "let's rock-paper-scissors for it. Whoever loses has to clean it up."
"Deal. Best 2 out of 3"
So the duel began. Both of us were quite serious about winning this match and it showed on our faces. With our game faces on, we both tried to outsmart the other and predict the other person's next move. Well, that in theory seemed like a good idea in and of itself. But in reality it just caused us to show the exact same hand signal. The first two or three times it happened it just made us laugh, and then it just caused a frenzy of competitiveness to ensue. Frantically, the game got faster. "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot" turned into "Rocpaperissorsshoo!" Until one of us finally outwitted the other and got a victory. The next two rounds ended faster and I ended up winning. So yes, that meant my poor husband was now on throw up duty. (Maybe now would be a good time to mention that this was just a couple days after I moved down. And in that time period, I had contracted some sort of bug that made me nausous all the time and actually throw up a few times. Needless to say, my husband had alright done his fair share of throw up patrol so I felt kinda bad)
As he gingerly makes his way around the cat throw up towards the kitchen, I had already gone to grab paper towels. I go to hand him the roll but he had other plans. "How else are you planning on cleaning it up?" I asked, curious about his planned tactics. "I'm going to turn a plastic bag inside out," was his monotone reply. I could tell he was not amused. He came back into the kitchen looking a bit nauseated. His arm was fully extended holding the bag now containing the mess as far away from him as possible. After he bee-lined it to the trash can, I cheerfully handed the roll of paper towel. Then it dawned on me. This was his first time cleaning up cat throw up, I thought. Promptly after making this realization I relieved him from his post and went to soak up what was left.

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