My husband asked me again recently if I poop.
Again. Yeah, let that sink in for a second. This conversation has happened before.
After a bit of questioning, he revealed that he doesn’t believe it because he doesn’t have any evidence. With photoshopping, any pictorial evidence I could give him could be faked. With dogs and cats around, I have a never ending supply of decoy poo. Between the crazy technology you kids have invented and my regular life, there is no evidence that will be good enough, y’all. None!
That’s not really the point here though. I am totally getting myself all distracted by defending why I shouldn’t be defending myself over my bowel habits, or lack thereof.
Point is: either way, because of this, I am on my way to sainthood. I might not poop, and that’d be a miracle. Or maybe I do, but the lack of evidence caused My Husband the Nay-Saying Non-Believer to have faith which is kind of a miracle too. I won’t be one of the big saints, but I think I’m in line for one of the lesser roles. I’ll be one of those saints who is the patron saint of things people really don’t need a patron saint for. Maybe Hot Pockets? Is there a saint for them yet?
This will come in really handy next time my mother asks what I’m doing with my life. “Not excreting and working towards sainthood” is a completely reasonable answer, dont you think?
PS- Writing this was way more fun than writing a mission statement for this blog, which Ill probably abandon in three days anyway.
PPS- What does it say about me that I want this post to be my lasting mark on the internet?