Sunday, February 19, 2017
Another Sequel No One Wanted
Friday morning, Ian woke me up forty-five minutes early.
"Hey, I need to talk to you about something," he said.
I thought perhaps he had some tragic disease or had been caught watching Little Women: Atlanta again.
"Did you leave any cash out that she might have eaten? Because I found this in the closet."
Indeed he was washing off a wad of chewed up $20 bills.
"Uh, no," I said. "I mean, I think I pretty well learned that lesson last time."
"Cause I don't know what's going on here. If she got more cash somehow or something."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's still from the last time around. It could take a while to make it through the digestive system. But regardless, I'm pretty sure we can throw it away."
"I just don't know what's happening here."
"She ate cash and she's pooping it out. I don't think it's complicated."
So the takeaway here is that Ian thinks cash pooping is worth waking me up for, whereas I would prefer to not get up early for anything short of a fire. Also that twenties don't digest as smoothly as little dogs might hope. Karma's a bitch, and so is Aubrey.
