Wednesday afternoon Patrick was up on a ladder hanging our newly repainted midnight blue shutters (it only took me 5 years to notice that they were teal blue and that it wasn’t 1989) and I was standing at the foot of the ladder telling him all the wonderfully productive things I was about to go do… like laundry and cleaning and kidnapping Michelle Obama’s stylist.

So imagine his surprise when he found me in the driveway, 15 minutes later, still in my work clothes, standing in the middle of a mountain of soap suds and cursing up a storm while spraying a big square of gray carpet with the hose. ANGRILY.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Oh. This? Yeah. So. The other day I was running errands and I remembered that we needed bleach and dishwashing soap and like a million other cleaning things so I went to the Dollar Store and I stocked up for like forty-seven cents.”

“The forty-seven cents store?”

“Yes. That. Fine. But then I forgot about everything for a few days until today and went I went to get everything out of my truck, one of the bottle of dish soap had exploded and so now I’m here. Doing this.”

“Good lord… what else did you get? How many bags are here?”

“I don’t know… a few. Just cleaning stuff. Bleach. Windex. Oven Cleaner. Bathroom Cleaner. Dish Soap. Air Freshener. Shit like that. Plus I got some Sudafed because I feel a little sniffle coming on. And some grape jelly so I can try and make those weird meatballs with the barbecue sauce and grape jelly that are kind of secretly awesome and hard to quit like crack.”

“And you’ve just been driving around with all this rattling around in your trunk for how long?”

“A few days. I don’t know. What’s the big deal? In case you haven’t noticed I’m over here HAVING AN IMPROMPTU FOAM PARTY! WHY ARE YOUR PANTS STILL ON AND WHY AM I NOT TRIPPING ON SHROOMS RIGHT NOW?”

“You do realize that you’ve been driving around with an accidental meth lab in the trunk of your car, right?”

“Huh. Who would’ve thought that WOULDN’T be the dumbest thing I’ve done this week? Wait… you need grape jelly to make meth?”

“Yes. But only the really good kind.”

“Seriously. Pants. WHY?”