2002-08-19 8:45 a.m.

Toilet Fishing

Last night the inevitable happened -- one of the teetering stack of Peoples on the back of the toilet finally made a bid for freedom.

I was summoned to the bathroom by TheBoy, who insisted that I come fish it out of the toilet bowl, while he narrated my progress with a stream of I-told-you-so's and that's-so-grosses. (The toilet was clean and empty at the time, I might note.) The magazine was retrieved and dumped in the trash, and no one died of any awful toilet-borne diseases.

How can boys be so gross and yet so squeamish at the same time?

-=-

"'Toilet fishing?' What's that all about? Do I even want to know?"

"I'm making fun of you in my diary -- and before you get on your high horse, you know that the only reason you don't make fun of me in your diary is that you don't have one."

"You got that right."

Sometimes we understand each other so well it's scary.

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