Tuesday, April 21, 2009

the case against marrying a scientist:

This conversation took place yesterday:

Me - (at the computer) Hey, I think I've figured out what's wrong with our water.

Keith - (pretends to listen but doesn't look up from his Rubik's cube) Hmmm?

Me - It's hard. We've got hard water. It totally makes sense.

Keith: Hmmm?

Me - Listen to the symptoms: soap scum gathers around the bathtub. The washing gets sort of crunchy. Shampoo won't lather. And...

(small voice)

It ages the skin.

Keith - It what?

It ages the skin.

Keith - Asian what?


Keith gives me a look.

Me - That's not the main reason I think it. It's the other things that match.


But I have been looking sort of old lately.


But if it's hard water we can just soften it! For my skin!

Keith quietly speaks of minerals, bores and rainwater, and then returns to his Rubik's cube.

Logic is a cruel bedfellow.


  1. But you're still going to marry him, right? I mean, you made such a pretty picture and all.

  2. Yes, I'll marry him but if he refuses to agree about the water I'm not going to look nearly as nice.


Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.