Disposable Culture

One wouldn't think it necessary to explain why it's a bad idea to put metal in a garbage disposal. One would not have met my children.

"What the hell were you doing?" I asked. The disposal was disassembled on the floor as I tried to remove the shards of three Orange Crush bottle caps from the grinding mechanism.

"I opened the bottles in the sink so I wouldn't spill pop on the counter."

He's been warned about that often enough, given his penchant for spilling things next to the small television we keep on the counter.

"Then I didn't want to reach in the disposal to get them."

He's also been warned about that plenty of times. I guess he does listen once in a while. Still, even he should have been able to spot the logical flaw.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked. "I could have fished them out before anyone tried to use it."

"I forgot."

Sadly, he was telling the truth. As I later explained to his older brother, yelling at him for this would have been as pointless as yelling at him about his eye color. It's who he is.

The Lovely Bride was less impressed with this excuse, especially when she found out how much a new disposal was going to cost.

"It's not like you're in a position to criticize," I muttered, under my breath, I thought.

"What?" she snapped.

Oops, I'd been louder than I realized. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"The two of you are genetically indistinguishable," I said. "He's like a mini-you."

"Really?" she said.

Given how long we've been married, you'd think I'd know when to shut up. I'd been sniffing plumber's putty for the last hour; it must have impaired my judgment.

"You know what you'll both have engraved on your tombstones?" I continued. "'It Was An Accident.'"

"You don't say."

"Like that time you ran into a deer at a stoplight at the busiest intersection in the city. What, it fell from the sky?"

I got a flat stare.

"Or the time I checked the transportation department's traffic website because you were so late coming home from work. Imagine my surprise to see our car under the incident report tab."

"Anything else?" asked my Lovely Bride.

Something about her tone finally sunk in. "No, I think I'm about done," I said.

"Yes you are," she said. "Would you like me to provide a list of all the mistakes you've made?"

"I'll help," said my oldest.

"Me too," the youngest added. "Mom's way better than you."

"Keep in mind you're one of my mistakes," I told him.

"Seriously, Dad, you're annoying everyone today," my oldest said. "Why don't you stop talking for a while?"

"That's not a bad idea," said the Lovely Bride.

"Can I talk to the dog?" I asked.

"No. Lucy hates you too," said the oldest.

"Can I talk to myself?"

"Not out loud," he said.

"Can I sing?"

"No."

"Whistle?"

"No."

"Not even while I work?"

"Don't be stupid," said the oldest.

"Too late for that," said the Lovely Bride.