Brought to you by pregnancy hormones:
(After an incident where Gus saw a bear outside our back patio window and literally shit himself.)
Me: What did you use to clean up the Gus poop?
Me: What towels? Not the nice towels?!
Adam: I don’t know. Whatever towels are in the washing machine.
Me: (looking in the washing machine) There’s grey towels and white towels, which ones are poopy?
Adam: Whatever ones are in the washing machine.
Me: They’re all in the washing machine! Please for the love of God Adam tell me you didn’t use the good bamboo towels to clean up dog shit.
Adam: I don’t know what towels I used! They’re in the washing machine!
Me: THERE ARE FIVE TOWELS IN THE WASHING MACHINE. THEY CAN NOT ALL BE POOPY.
Adam: THEY’RE ALL POOPY! EVERYTHING IS POOPY! JUST ASSUME THAT EVERYTHING WE OWN IS COVERED IN POOP!
Me: (surveying our bedroom) Can you please clean up all of your shit?!
Adam: What shit?
Me: (gesturing to piles of discarded clothing) THIS shit.
Adam: Those are my jeans!
Me: Well, put your jeans in the laundry hamper.
Adam: DON’T TOUCH THOSE! Those are the jeans I wore yesterday. I leave them on the floor for a reason. Every day, I get up and put on the jeans I wore the day before.
Adam: Yes. I’m disgusting.
Me: I just really hate you today.
Adam: (patting my knee) I know sweetheart, I know.