Friday's post was heavy.
Sorry about that, but sometimes life is heavy. And I feel the need to inflict it on you.
One day last week I was whining to my husband about one of the cases we had. However, I was also expressing relief that it was during normal business hours.
Oh, did I mention we were chatting about this at the dinner table? Aren't you jealous that you aren't at our dinner time conversations?
Anyway, Popcorn wanted to know where these drains were at that I was so stressed about. Bookworm immediately said, "I don't want to know! Just stop talking about it!" Popcorn voiced that it must come out the ear...
"Not quite," and I chuckled.
"Oh. I get it." And she squirmed in her chair. "How awkward."
"What? Where do you think it comes out, then?"
"PLEASE! I'm eating! I don't want to know!" Poor Bookworm.
Popcorn squirmed in her chair again, and said "You know..."
I started laughing. "Not out of your bottom! Is that what you thought!?"
"Well, if it doesn't come out of your ear or your bottom where does it come out!"
So, I explained that they drill a burr hole in the skull and thread a tube down into the brain to drain the blood accumulating.
I think she thought the bottom would be less horrific.
But she still ate a second bowl of chili, so it must not have been too horrific for her.