no valley fever. life is good.

My husband used to come home from work with outrageous stories about odd fantasies and experiences of other people he read about from a column in
The Village Voice. I sometimes wished he would stop reading it, although some stories made our relationship better.

I used to be pissed off when I would get into the shower after him and find a tiny sliver of soap left. What happened to the common courtesy of soap replenishment from our newlywed years?

But now, as I replenish the soap myself, I smile. I am grateful I am not married to the strange man who admitted to the Village Voice that he likes to poo in the shower and squish it down the drain with his toes.
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