Special Edition Matt Post: Weekend "Blowout" Sale!

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring to you, a special Weekend update by my much funnier better half. 

We are in the market for some new furniture.  We have our hand-me-down couches that we bought off Craig's List when we first got married.  They have worked great for the time we had them, but now that we can no longer identify the origin of each stain and tear, we are deciding to put in for our first set of new couches.  Get ahead of the smell, I always say!

We just finished our lunch at Shari's where I had to change Emma's  dirty diaper on the dirty bathroom floor.  Yes, I tried to get as far away from the toilet as possible, but yes, my feet still stuck to the floor when I stood up.  I had my trusty companion, Ty, with me, who had his trusty chicken finger with him.  He had to use the potty and before I could inform him that the "10 sec rule" never applies at restaurants named after their creator or whose title claims some form of royalty, he had set his chicken finger down on the toilet paper dispenser.  I should have had him throw it away, but instead I just had him put it in his pocket. When we got out to the car, he naturally forgot to button up his pants, so he put his chicken down on the car trunk and politely said, "sorry dad, I forgot."  "No problem," I said, "easy to forget something like that and oh, by the way, lets try to keep our half eaten chicken fingers off the car." I later found the remaining pieces in the interior handle of the back seat door.  I'm sure he was saving it for later.

With our tummies full, we happily entered the furniture store.  The nice salesman started to show us how the pricing works and what kind of deals they had. He left us to look around and Ty calls to me from across the front of the store.  "Uh, dad, I sink I pooped my pants?"  He walked toward me like cowboy who just got out of the saddle, after a long cattle drive.  Those of you who have expected to pass gas and instead passed "Go," know what I mean.  And that should be everyone, because you haven't lived long enough if you haven't had that unparalleled debate in your head of "I think I did, but I'm sure. Yep, I did, but I can deal with it.  Just walk normal-ish and smile, no one has to know. Does it smell?  What am I talking about, I CAN'T handle this. Eewww, it touched me. And, I'm definitely throwing these away."

So, I said to him, "You think you did?"  He must have been somewhere in the debate where he thought he could proceed with his day as if nothing had happened, and confidently turned and said, "Nope, I didn't.  Here do you need to smell my bum?" while turning around and arching his left bum cheek higher than the other. I can't believe it, he is trying to call my bluff.  "No, I don't need to smell your bum, here let me check."  Sure enough, he did.  As soon as Mickie got out of the bathroom with Ty, who was now enjoying his new found freedom, it was Shari's turn again to stake claim on another pair of underpants. Maylee had her turn.  But soon we were out of kids and could proceed with our quest for some new couches. We didn't end up deciding on any couches but we definitely narrowed our choices.

I had my turn at a blow-out in a different way.  Mickie was saying that the dryer was making a funny rattle and started to smell like burning when she ran it.  I guess when you take on the role of a husband you are also supposed to take on the role of "Mr. Fix It."  I've never taken apart a dryer before, and I had pretty good success until I heard a loud pop, and saw a bright spark shoot out the back.  I confidently called out to Mick, "Um, I think I found the problem."

Turns out there were two bobby pins caught in the fan, which was what was causing that strange ticking sound, as well as a sucker stick which was causing the burning smell.  Darn! If only I had found those items before I blew up the dryer.  Good, news is, I found the old and the new problem. We've got a new part on order and Mick will be able to do laundry again in a few days.