This weekend, Susan and I went to look at a house. Between the two of us we saw it three times; she went with her mother, then she sent me to go look at it while I was out to lunch with my dad, then the two of us went back and looked at it a third time together. It was pretty a nice house, really big with no yard and lots of rooms but not a lot of storage. For 3,500 square foot, you would have thought they could have crammed in a linen closet or more than one coat closet. Nope.
So anyway, as we’re getting ready to leave, Mason says the four words that sends us all running: “I need to poop.” There’s no way we can make it home by this point in time, so … well let’s just say, whoever buys that lovely home will be glad to know that the O’Haras already broke in the toilet for them.