Ok this is a true story:
This morning at 4:55am the alarm goes off and my husband gets up to get his shower after hitting snooze twice. I try to fall back to sleep as is my custom. Suddenly, as the drool is beginning, I’m sure, the door to the bedroom bursts open and Shelden yells, “You gotta help me. You gotta help me.”
“Holy Shit, Holy Shit, Holy Shit”, I think. It could be anything when that skinny-assed, lame-fingered, diabetic is concerned. So I leap out of bed and say “What? What? What?’ (I think in 3s, especially at 5:20 am)
“I gotta tick. You have to remove it.” “A tick??? Where is it?” “It’s on my dick!!!! I have a tick on my dick!!!” “What the shit? How’d you get a tick on your dick??” “I don’t know. Just get it off. Make sure you get the head” I was pretty sure he was referring to the tick at that point.
So I go into the bathroom, get my makeup bag and grab the tweezers. Of course, the tick is on his groin, not his actual dick, so I go to work on it. “Why don’t you put on your glasses so you can actually see?” he says. He still hasn’t figured out the whole near-sighted/far-sighted thing. “Actually, I see up close better withOUT my glasses.” I say. He seems happier and lets me get down to work again. This time I get the tick – it really hasn’t latched on or anything – but it starts climbing up the tweezers. I run to the sink and turn on the water. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?????” he screams. "Put it in the toilet – it’ll climb up the drain pipe. It’ll cling to the sides.” I go to the toilet and try to flick off the tick. Doesn’t the pair of tweezers fall in the toilet????