The high brow, classy conversations that happen around here sometimes astound me.
I don’t know if it’s due to being married for as long as we have been, or having five kids in the house, or simply Wolf and I are meant to be, and instead of growing together have devolved at the same rate, but we have conversations that would make our nine year old son, Tazzie proud, for the discussions of bodily functions.
Today’s classy conversation involved farts.
Specifically, Bazinga farts.
Apparently Wolf was up with Boo last night, and, as usual, Bazinga was asleep against our door. Wolf made the fatal error of leaving the door open. He also sleeps on the side closest to the door, a detail that is vitally important.
By the time he got back, Bazinga had left a gift for him. The oh, so subtle stench of Massive Mastiff Mustard Gas. And it was wafting in to the room, hovering (according to him) in a noxious cloud on his side of the bed. He claims he had to reposition the fan to get rid of it, and left the room for twenty minutes until his side of the bed was safe again.
Yup. Keeping it classy around here.