On being a grown-up.

Dialogue from a few nights ago:

Danielle: Ew. Come look at this! It's so gross. I think it even smells. Sick.

John: How long has this been in there?

D: I dunno...like, a few months? Maybe...six months?

J: I'm not picking that up. This is your problem.

D: Ew. EW. It's like a science experiment. I can't clean it, I'm scared.

J: I think that it's beyond cleaning.

D: Will you please throw it out? I cleaned your bathroom the other day and you owe me.

J: This is not how this stuff works, this marriage is a partnership.

D: Right...so you'll throw it out?

J: How is this my responsibility?

D: Because I cleaned your bathroom and that was your responsibility which you shirked, so you have to make it up to me. Plus, I'm only afraid of two things: smelly mold and spiders, and I have only asked you to kill a spider like, once.

J {holds up "science experiment" and proceeds to dry-heave}: I've never seen anything like this before.

D: You need to double-bag that shit. No, triple-bag it and then put it in a garbage bag. Maybe you should spray some Febreze. Oh, God, I can't even...

J: Okay...Here's the plan. We'll save the lid, but toss everything else. I'm going to need you to hold the bag open so that I can dump it in quickly. Hold your breath, okay?

D: No! Wait! I can't, I can't! {shrieks loudly...glass shatters.}

{J, looking green, dumps the offending mass into the garbage bag, takes the bag and sprints to the trash room. The chute opens and closes, and I hear J take a deep breath and gag. He comes back in.}

J: I don't want to talk to you right now.

D: Do you want some baked ziti?