Raised by...?

Please meet the trashcan from our main bath.  It's rusty, but functional.

Now meet the liner which has been removed from the trashcan.  It was taken out to be emptied and washed.

Now take a good look into the linerless trashcan.  What is it that you see?  Yes, trash - carelessly thrown through the trashcan and onto the floor.

I really, really don't know who is raising the children in this home.

Ode to the Death of Logic

On Sunday night my daughter went bowling. When her father and I picked her up afterward, she casually mentioned that she was wearing one shoe that wasn't hers. When she turned in her bowling shoes, the clerk couldn't find my daughter's shoe and said there was no other option than for my daughter to take some other person's shoe home.

Oh, no. No. NO!

Her determined father marched back inside and worked a much better deal. The deadline is tonight at 5:30. Find her shoe or write a check. (Honestly? If that shoe was worn home by someone else, I'm done with it anyway. You should have seen the condition of the one left at the bowling center).

I just can't figure out what confounds me more:

The bowling center's admission that they lose shoes all the time or my daughter's willingness to wear mismatched shoes home.