Later the same night that I posted the last entry, Tyler comes bursting into my room and going straight for my clean towels.
“Tyler! What are doing?”
“I’m getting a towel.” He looks at me like he’s about to say, “Here’s your sign.”
“WHY?” My voice has risen to the level that only dogs can hear.
“Because the dog barfed on the floor.”
Uh. Straight A student. Honor roll. Advanced classes. Complete idiot.
“WHY ARE YOU USING MY CLEAN TOWELS TO CLEAN IT UP?” I can’t even understand my own voice anymore.
and then he does something that changes every fiber in my being. HE looks at ME, like I am the stupidest person in the whole world. His eyebrows pinch together so tightly as if he is worried about my mental health because If I just asked that question, there must be something truly and deeply wrong all the way to my core.
He shakes his head at me, throws up his arms and says SO matter of fact, “Because there are NO dirty towels to use.”
Of course. Silly me. Use my clean towels to clean up dog barf.
I was just going to use it to clean up after sex anyway.