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Murder is a Crime, Cup Rings are Not

I’ve had a few contractors in and out of my house over the past few days bidding on replacing the bathtub. One particular contractor walked out of the bathroom and handed me three empty coffee mugs with a disgusted look on his face.

I was livid. How dare he come in my house and judge me? That’s what I have family for.

I’m unsure if it was the coffee that bothered him, or the fact I was drinking it in the bathroom.

“Oh, thanks. I forgot to put that away this morning.”

“Um, there are three.”

I love when people impress me with their counting skills. I felt like I should justify my morning routine, but held back. I also suppressed my urge to smash one of the mugs and use the shards to cut his throat.

Seriously though, it’s not that gross that I drink coffee in the bathroom. Sure, sometimes the mugs leave weird looking cup rings on the back of my toilet, and tub, but it’s not like I sit on the toilet every morning while eating a bowl of cereal.


How much time would eating breakfast while peeing save? Five minutes? Ten minutes? I could hit the snooze button one more time.

Or I could stop eating breakfast altogether.

With the money saved on food, I could hire a maid to clean up the mugs, or spend the money on supplies to mainline the coffee. Either option would make me happy, and likely keep the next contractor alive.


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