There is no conclusive evidence that prostate massage reduces the risk of prostate cancer. However, as Pascal’s reasoning suggests, even the unproved possibility of preventing something bad may sometimes be worth the effort. Hence the welcoming of purple Mr. P into our home. As we are certain of the existence of both the prostate and cancer, Mr. P is not named after Pascal.
Our Auntie Sweetie is named after her sweet nature. She is so sweet that she dropped by this week so I could do errands without the kids. She is so sweet that she cannot watch The Little Mermaid without blushing. Or look at my breast-feeding painting at all. She is so sweet that she decided to clean my kitchen while she waited.
“I washed the dishes that weren’t in the dishwasher and started to clean the counter, but I didn’t know where everything went, so I just left some things,” she explained in her sweet sparrow voice used when children are around. I noticed that while she was talking, she was looking at her feet and twisting her long piano fingers.
I wanted to ease her obvious discomfort and thanked her for not putting anything away that I might not be able to find later. Still not looking at me, she went back to playing with my delightful children.
After she left, I went to the kitchen to put away the bowl she had washed. The crumbs around the toaster had been cleaned. I remembered something. You saw it coming?
Yes, it was he. Mr P had been introduced to Auntie Sweetie. There he was behind the cutting board, drying himself in the nude after his disinfecting bath the night before.
Ahh! Why did it have to be her? Why not someone who would make a joke about how leaving the church leads to sexual depravity instead of someone who might actually think it?
At least I hadn’t put out our Asherah pole to charge (via USB port) like I was planning. Bwahaha!
(For those of you who may care: the kids are too short to see anything on the counter.)