There’s simply no other explanation for this post.

 Despite the tightrope-walk-over-a-wormhole-containing-a-million-shrarknados that is my work life, my mornings are fairly routine: I wake up to the alarm clock’s warning, peel the dog off my legs, carry her downstairs so she can evacuate her TARDIS-like (tiny-yet-bigger-on-the-inside-bowels), carry her back upstairs, plop her on the bed and tell the wife to stay asleep while I get ready for work.

Naturally, I know VampireLover will ignore me, so the clock begins ticking, Jack Bauer style, while I get myself ready to face the hordes of travelers waiting for me. But before I know it, that familiar creak begins to emanate from the upper staircase (a ninja could never live in a 10-year-old house), and the bathroom door flings open.

And the thrill ride that is my union begins to unfold again.

VL:  (Upon seeing the sink.)  Hey, Skippy! You used way too much…