Tuesday, November 2, 2010

I Don't Know Why This Isn't In 'Hints From Heloise'

I used to have a good friend who couldn't eat a meal without half of it ending up everywhere except in his mouth. If he were eating spaghetti, you could be sure that after the meal, when you were cleaning up, you'd find a couple of strands of the stuff hanging from the ceiling. On the floor around his chair would be bits and pieces of everything that had been on his plate. Going out to dinner with him was always an adventure. One thing I learned early on was that if there was a salad bar, to make sure I got to it before he did. You see, as he would make his way along the salad bar sampling each offering, food would be flying, sticking to the sneeze guard, and slopping over into the vats of chick peas and salad dressings. It was pretty disgusting. You might ask, why would I continue go out to dinner with this guy? It's because he had an excuse. He had Tourette’s Syndrome, that entertaining neurological disorder that is part acrobatics and part performance art. Goddamnsonofabitch!

That was over thirty years ago. Unfortunately my friend has passed on, and I’ll never get to hear him blurt out dirty words in a crowded room ever again. No more flying food, or sudden herky jerky movements while driving a car down the road. I do however, still get to be around somebody who leaves as much food on the floor, walls, and ceiling, as my old friend did. That person would be Mark. I’m not quite sure how he does it because he doesn’t have Tourette’s, and there is no obvious flinging of the food. It just so happens that when he gets up from the dinner table, there are bits and scraps of food everywhere. Over the years I’ve learned that after dinner, If I take my time cleaning up, my little critter friends will have done half the work for me. Chandler will always deal with the floor, licking it clean of all traces of food. As for the dinner table, all I have to do is clear it of the plates and flatware, and then leave the rest up to Fat Kitty. Sooner or later she will always find her way up there, and graze her way across the table, feeding on Mark‘s leftovers. It may not be very sanitary, but I find it gives me a head start on the overall cleanup after dinner. Now if I could only get one of them to wash the dishes.


  1. I have those same symptoms but I chalked them up to alcohol. The first step might be admitting you have a problem. but it seems my second step will be blaming it on something besides my favorite vice.
    Note to self: Kitten instead of cleaning lady...

  2. damnsonofabeeatchyouthankyoufordinner.