Funny story...

At least *I* think it's funny. And for the purposes of this blog, that's all that really matters ;)

So this morning, Emme and I are getting ready to head out to the grocery store for some provisions. But whenever we're heading out, Emme loves to play hockey with me before she gets in the car. Little Miss Gretzky uses an old wooden stick I cut down almost to the blade. She doesn't hit the puck to well; she's actually more content dancing around to the click-clack sound of my bad-ass stick-handling.

While I'm showing Emme the finer points of puck control, a technician from Lloyd's Pest Control, who evidently had an appointment at our neighbor's house, approaches us.

"Excuse me, sir," says the technician, "but I'm checkin' the flux capacitor next door and it doesn't look like anyone's home. Might I use your restroom?"

Now I will admit, the first thing that went through my head was some scene from all those horror movies where the seemingly innocuous contractor asks to use the restroom or asks for a drink of water, only to chop the homeowners to pieces. But then logic set in, and I thought it probably wasn't too big of a deal. Besides, I could have taken him ;)

So I pick up Emme, go in the house, and direct him to the hallway restroom.

"Oh, thank you so much, sir."

"No problem," I reply.

So Emme and I head back into the garage, and just to be safe, I stand within arm's reach of this big axe I have.

But then I was overcome with another thought: Which *number* is he doing in our bathroom? One or two? Well, it can't be one because if he was any kind of reasonable adult he would have held it. Plus, the dude's been in there like 5 minutes, so it had to be number two.

Number two!! Nooooooo!

Now I'm a little peeved. I just let a complete stranger into our house to kill our bathroom. Screw the stereo, what about the toilet?!

So midway through my worst-case scenario of his toilet adventure, he exits the house and reenters the garage. I greet him with a half-smirk/half-glare.

"Gee, thanks, sir," the technician says. "You know, when nature calls, sometimes you have to listen."

Uhhh... I guess so. I just wish you didn't have to "listen" in my house.

As the technician headed back to his truck, which was parked up the street, Emme and I made our way back into the house. Fearing the worst, I pointed my large nose towards the hallway bathroom.

Dude. Horrible. As a parent of a 19 month-old daughter, I've smelled plenty of putrid dirty diapers. But nothing compared to the stench that Mr. Pest Control left behind. If you believe in Heaven and Hell, this might be what Hell smells like.

Comedic value aside, I'm still trying to figure out the point of this story. Maybe the point should be to never let strangers in your house, not for fear of a crime, but of what they'll do to your toilet.