Terrence recently discovered flushing things down the toilet.  And I’m most likely going to kill him any day now.  In case anyone needs a motive to give to the police, here’s why.  Occasionally I flush my unfinished cereal or soup down the toilet and it has always annoyed Terrence for unknown reasons.  I’d ask him why he cared and he’d usually respond, because.  No, that’s not the reason he must die.  Although responding with, because, is annoying on its own level.

Terrence makes his morning coffee in a french press and has since shortly after we moved in together.  But in those first four years of living together we had a garbage disposal, which is one of the best inventions of all time.  We also had a spray hose attachment for our sink, which I’ve had my whole life and never understood just how essential one of these was until we moved here.  Now we don’t have either, which makes kitchen sink clean up nearly intolerable.  Without these things Terrence is forced to clean up the sink manually, a skill he’s yet to comprehend.  He constantly leaves food in the drain trap and doesn’t bother to clean it out.  I’m not sure that he never cleans it out, but I’ve never seen it clean unless I know I did it.  Boys are gross.

Terrence recently discovered the solution to making his morning coffee with minimal, if any, clean up.  He’s begun flushing his coffee grinds down the toilet.  The very same toilet that my cereal is prohibited from entering.  Now my toilet is in a constant state of blackness.  It’s awful and it pisses me off.  A few times a week now I have to spray down the bowl with bleach cleaners and wipe around the edges with clorox wipes.  I asked him to stop flushing this sludge down the toilet and he refused.  I asked if he’d at least clean up after his black mess, he refused that too.

Finally, I asked what our guests would think when they unsuspectingly went to use our bathroom and found our toilet covered in black.  He replied that they’d assume we flush our coffee grinds and get over it.  Grr…

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