"Girls are disgusting."
Hubby said that. And he wasn't even 7 years old at the time.
He said it this afternoon when he was hunched over my bathtub with his plumbing snake trying to unclog my drain.
It's been getting worse for a while. Every time I shower, the soapy water starts to collect up to my ankles. So I've been asking him to deal with it for weeks. He always vows he'll never do it, but I always know I can talk him into it. I'm convincing like that.
Well, he ended up pulling THE most repulsive wad of goopy smelly hair out of the depths of my tub, and proceeded to hastily exit the room while gagging/cursing.
It was pretty gross.
And while the first snaking process pulled out what one would think was the problem (the giant slimy hairball), the clog only seemed to get worse.
So Hubby tried to snake the drain again and again, splattering vomit-inducing slop all over the bathroom.
He wasn't happy. And even though I opened the window for him - you know, to disperse the stench of rotting hair - his mood didn't seem to improve. Go figure.
Who can blame him, really? With years and years of soap, and bubblebath, and shampoo, and conditioner, and every other female body product known to humanity, trapped in the pipe? Yummy.
So out came the plunger. But the gross tub water still didn't drain. So we poured a shit-ton of vinegar down there (trying to avoid cancer chemicals like Draino) and we're letting it stew for the day.
Which meant I had to shower in Hubby's bathroom.
(Yes, we have separate bathrooms. It's what I call a "marriage saver", like a King-size bed, or oversize blankets, or an automatic pet feeder, or living in different countries. It means that we don't argue about bathroom cleanliness, or shower-shelf space, or stubble in the sink. And it works like a charm.)
So, sure, he had to endure my disgusting hair wad. But I had to endure his slimy shower curtain hanging loose off all but 5 shower hooks.
Call it even.