Today I had a normal day at work, wearing long plastic blend pants with lots of stuff in my pockets and other heavy stuff hanging on my belt, and it was about a hundred degrees F outdoors while I was walking around a lot. I don't know if the internet will let me say it out loud, but my balls were sweating, a lot. To the point that when I was getting in and out of my truck I noticed smeared moisture on the vinyl seat. (spell vinyl, 3 times, fast.)
Fine. I get off work, I go home, I go into the shower and before I get started I notice that the soap bar I used to have in there is small. Like, Trident Whitening Gum small. I’m thinking, hmm. I need more soap, before I get started. So I go into The Bride’s bathroom, where she’s got everything. (Everything.) I find a medium sized brick that is white and covered in some crispy type of glasine wrapping. (No, The Bride is not involved in the importing or exporting of narcotics, relax. It’s some kind of soap.)
So I bring the brick into my bathroom, unwrap it and wash my stuff. It smells nice. It smells expensive. My stuff gets clean. I’m pleased; I had dog urine on me, cat feces on me, fluids from a couple of different DOAs (one for sure was a rabbit, another could have been a sea gull) and I spent some time talking up close to a woman who I think was on meth and lived near a bush. Wow, this soap is working out well. I think I burned through the logo on the bar before I realized it was a fucking $15 bar of soap that is from France or some place like that and was to be treated like furniture.
The Bride isn’t home yet so, so far, so good. I think I’m going to do some laundry now and chuck the rest of the brick into the machine with a white load.
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