So there we were, expounding on SOBUMD’s 40th birthday, and Number One Son walks up to a family friend and mentions that old age is catching up with his parents. “Why’s that?” asks our friend, taking an unwise sip of his drink.
“Because they can’t seem to remember if they’ve showered or not. We all go to bed, and then an hour later I can hear them each take a shower because they can’t remember if they took one or not. How do you forget that, 5 nights in a row?”
Our friend, to his credit, choked a bit but managed not to spit his drink across the room.
I’m really tempted to tell him how we forget that: you begin with a belt and suspenders approach to birth control, which starts with me getting my pipes clipped and then SOBUMD having a hysterectomy so radical it included removing the uterus, the appendix, and the gall bladder just to make sure. (Her body was so traumatized, she grew a third kidney just to compensate.) Next, you put the kids to bed…