Dirty Little Secret

So yesterday I was using the bathroom when I looked down only to see an army of ants swarming a sticky substance. The unknown substance looked suspiciously like a piece of Pop Tart ground into the rug, but I was unsure.

A normal person would have cleaned up the ant mess. Apparently I am not normal, because I decided to leave this mess. I figured that due to the frequency of my husband's bathroom trips, I wouldn't have to wait long before he discovered the Ant Tart and dealt with it himself.

Sure enough ten minutes later the door to the bathroom closes, and I hear Chris say, "Eeeww. There's this ant-goo mess on the rug."

Now there are many things that I struggle with--basic math computation, assembling children's toys, addiction to reality TV (When will they finally eliminate Mila on Project Runway? Enough already!), but honesty is generally a strong point for me. So it kind of surprised me when I said, "Oh, really?"

I pretty much tell Chris exactly how it is. I should have said, "Yeah. I know. Your department." This is only the second time I have stretched the truth with him. The first time was back in Utah when he brought home this hideous purple-gray paint square that he wanted to paint the bathroom in. When I noticed the dog eating this paint sample, I let the dog go for it. Then when Chris asked where the paint chip was I answered, "I don't know." But I did know. It had been digested and was hiding somewhere in the backyard waiting to be scooped up. But I confessed to that, and I am confessing now. Chris, I knew about the Ant Tart. Thanks for cleaning it up. I love you.