It’s the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I’m currently sitting in the Jet Blue JFK terminal, contently munching on some linguini alfredo. And I’m thinking to myself: crap, crap, crap, I’m going to be cleaning that toilet for the rest of my life.
Let me explain: You see, I’ve got this running bet with my roommate that whoever loses 10 pounds first must clean the other’s bathroom and make their bed for a week.