Stains

I just spilled red wine on the white carpet. Please don’t contemplate why either existed.

Spencer saw me cleaning it and said, “Did you spill something?! Idiot.” (Imagine a typical teenage angst, not the anger or hatefulness one might associate with with the word).

So I say, “Spencer, be nice to me. I’ve had a hard week. I’ve had a hard month. And a half!”

His fix? “Well go have a bologna sandwhich. Oh wait…I just finished the bread.”

At least he tried. : )

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