The Trifecta

So a few weeks ago I was minding my own business taking my morning shower when of course I am interrupted (as it goes in a house of 5 people).  But by some act of Divine intervention it, for once, wasn't one of the kids bursting into the bathroom, swinging open the shower door, and asking "Whatcha doing Mommy?"  Which, of course has happened on several other occasions, very much to the embarrassment of myself and my 8 year old stepson who is usually within eye shot. Anyway, this time it's my husband saying we are running short on time and he needs to get in too.  Reluctantly I let him in, but only after repeatedly telling him there shall be no "touching", "canoodling", "groping" and anything thing else he can think of at such an early hour especially when, low and behold, the kids could come in at any moment.  And surprisingly enough after only one ass-grab, and three hand slaps, he is leaving me alone to finish my shower.

I stand there washing my hair, day dreaming about what it used to be like when I could have an interrupted shower, the smell of shampoo and urine in air....Wait, What?  URINE?!? My eyes fly open just in time to see the last of the vile yellow liquid swirling down the drain.  The freaking shower drain!  Right next to where I happen to be standing. I then have a quick flashback of when my sister and I used to stick our feet in the toilet as young children, so I throw up a silent prayer of thanks that my kids never tried such a thing.  Then I am once again back in the moment and staring dumbfounded at my very grown up husband who has basically just peed on me.  After telling him what a disgusting thing that was to do, and having an internal debate on whether or not I should just get out (but I really do need to finish my shower and get ready for work), I move on to the conditioner. Strike One.

After putting the conditioner in my hair, I switch places with my husband so he can rinse off, and even though obviously he just went, I'm secretly thankful to be uphill of the drain just in case he decides to go again.  Foolishly I think that I have had my disgusting moment of the morning when my darling man then starts blowing what he lovingly calls "snot rockets" into his hand.  Once again the look of complete and utter disgust is on my face and there are just no words for this moment.  What is it with men and bodily functions and their complete inability to sensor any of them, or am I the only lucky one to end up with such an open and sharing partner in life?  Strike Two.

At this point I just want out, so I shove him out of the way and I am rinsing out my hair as quick as I can when the final accost happens.  I don't know if any of you know what a "Dutch Oven" is but this is the closest I have ever come to experiencing it, and I will be forever damaged from that small point in time on.  Gagging and coughing I throw open the shower door.  At this point I am livid and calling him every kind of  "fucking this", and "fucking that" I can think of as he stands in the shower laughing.  LAUGHING!  So finally with the utmost of seriousness I ask him straight out, not even a hint of joking "What the hell is wrong with you?"  He looks me dead in the eye very gratified with himself and simply says "Thats good stuff baby, I just gave you the trifecta!"  Strike Three.