Will You Still Love Me...

...if I tell you something filthy?

(Those of you who immediately thought "I might love you MORE if you tell me something filthy"...keep it in yer pants, pervo. It's not THAT kind of filthy.)

Several weeks ago, we had a barbecue here at the Catastrophe. It was Thug Central Station for many, many hours, and though I spent the last half of it watching "West Side Story" and napping in the bedroom far away from the sound and fury, I did make three small contributions: a pan of mac-and-cheese, a pan of brownies, and a great big pot of spaghetti.

After the party, having at the very least a sense of justice, LJ cleaned up the mess. And so, when I saw all the dishes arrayed on the "clean" side of the counter, I was very pleased. There was the casserole dish, the tongs, the various implements and colanders and pans that had been used during the day...and the big spaghetti pot, with the lid sitting on it, right in the middle of it all.

We don't always put dishes away, here at the Catastrophe; we generally just pick them out of the dish drainer as we need them. It's a domestic sin, I know, but a small one. And the big spaghetti pot doesn't get used very often--generally only for tall food like corn or, well, spaghetti. So it sat there for a good long while, and I didn't really think about it, or look too closely at it...until a couple of weeks ago, when I noticed condensation on the inside of the glass lid. I looked closer...not only was there condensation, but there was also something that looked like...fur, sticking to the inside of the lid.

I looked even closer. Apparently a few bites of spaghetti had been left in the bottom of the pot after everyone was done. And rather than throwing them away, like any average person, LJ...just left them there. And put the lid on the pot, and moved it over to the "clean" counter.

Okay. That's scary enough. Here's what's worse:

That was a couple of weeks ago. And I haven't done a thing about it. I haven't lifted the lid, though I did move the pot, because it was in the way...but as far as actually attacking the problem? Not at all.

Yes, I know that's gross. I TOLD you it was gonna be filthy. But the fact of the matter is, I'm scared of this thing. I'm scared to open it, scared of having to deal with the contents. This is reminiscent of the times that ex-hubby #1 would drink half a glass of milk, then put the half-empty glass behind the computer monitor where no one could see it. I'd only find it a few days later when I smelled it. This is worse, though---worse by far.

If I suddenly stop posting, you'll know that I have been devoured by the Creature That Used to Be Spaghetti. (Firefly, I'm leaving you the kitties.) Because I'm going to tackle it...

...tomorrow.