Prisoner of War.

Lois the FinLois always has to check the basement before bed to make sure that everything’s locked up, etc. This process can take anywhere from one to three hours. Thankfully she is usually happy to wander around by herself with her flashlight, but some nights (like tonight) she requires our assistance with checking and rechecking and rechecking (repeat 500 times) the locks. These are the nights that you wonder what you could have possibly done in a former life to deserve this special kind of hell.

And as if things weren’t terrible enough, Lois insisted that I follow behind her as we went up the stairs, because she had the flashlight and she was worried that I might fall. So she took the steps, verrrry slowly, one at a time, and each step was aided by the abrupt force of her bullet-like farts. By the third step, I couldn’t take it anymore.

Me: “Lois, you go on ahead without me. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Lois: “Oh no, it will be much safer if you follow behind me. I’d feel terrible if you had a fall!”

Me: “I just figured that it might be a good idea to check the locks a few hundred more times.”

Lois: “Oh, good idea. Here, I’ll let you take the flashlight so that you can see what you’re doing.”

Mind you, there are about 6 lights that are left on in the basement for her crazy cat all night long, but Lois is blind as a bat.

Me: “Thank you, Lois. The flashlight really does help.”

Lois made her way up the stairs slowly but surely, with the aid of her rapid-fire farts. The sound echoed through the basement and for a moment I felt like a prisoner of war.

And she never even said “excuse me”. Not even once.

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