Have there been weirder days? Surely, but today was a rare gem of weirdness in a long streak of unremarkable days, so the weirdness sort of stood out. My kid was cooking in the kitchen for hours today, which presented a slight impediment to my gastroutine (⬅️ I just made up a word.)

He doesn’t cook often, but when he does, he goes big. He uses every pot, pan, and dish in the kitchen, every burner on the stove. He uses the oven, the broiler, the blender, the toaster, and the air fryer, and every available countertop.

I don’t want to discourage him from cooking because I know how much he loves it, but at the same time, I gotta eat, too. So, with no hope of being able to get in there and make myself something to eat, I went out. I didn’t want to go out, but I couldn’t wait any longer. As I was leaving the house, I heard thunder in the distance. It was many, many miles away, so I wasn’t concerned. As I got back on my bike after lunch, however, it started to rain. The rain only got heavy the closer I got to home, as though I were riding into the storm. I was not happy.

I hate getting wet, and I was starting to get irritated when I suddenly remembered that when I left the house, those cunts across the street were painting their car parts on their front lawn, so they got fucked when it started raining, and that made me happy. With my spirits lifted, I didn’t mind the drops of water hitting my face.

Rain that wasn’t mentioned in the forecast, at all, was strange, but hardly the weirdest part of the day. The weirdest thing I saw today came, as it only could, from Bonnie’s mom. She tore her bedroom apart looking for the remote for her TV. She couldn’t find it anywhere, but rather than looking in the area where it might be, her bed, she looked under the kitchen table, in the pantry, in the bathroom, and in every drawer, box, and container in the room. That’s where she found a turkey sandwich that she had squirreled away, god only knows how long ago.

It was wrapped in a paper towel and stuffed into a little container. She opened it up, unfolded the paper towel, had a sniff, wrapped it back in the paper towel, and set it aside. I figured she didn’t put it back in the container because she was going to throw it away, but oh, how I was wrong.

She ate it. She ate a turkey sandwich that had been sitting in her room since sometime last week, maybe longer. She ate a turkey sandwich of unknown age with mayonnaise and butter on it. (Yes, she puts butter on a turkey sandwich. She puts butter on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, too. She just puts butter on everything.) Mayonnaise and butter that had been sitting in her room during days when the temperature outside was over 90º.

How many times has she done that? And how far will she go? She sniffed the sandwich multiple times, which tells me not that it was perfectly fine, but that she caught a whiff of something and wasn’t totally sure it was safe. She ate it anyway, though. What would have turned her off to it? Visible mold? Mold in her butter dish doesn’t bother her, so probably not. Bugs? God, I hope so.

I just can’t even imagine. Never would I ever eat food that I found while cleaning my room. I also wouldn’t stash food in my room, but that’s besides the point. Living with her is like living with a wild dog. You can’t predict anything she’ll do, and you can’t leave food where she can get to it because she’ll eat anything she sees. Even if she doesn’t know what it is or how long it’s been there. 🤮