Psychic Much?

If you’ve read this blog for long you know that Chaos Boy thinks I’m a witch. (I’d be more willing to say I’m psychic in some way as the only thing I’m willing to worship is a Florentine Dooney & Bourke handbag.) Loyal readers will also know that I do my best thinking in the shower. Apparently I do some of my best witching (psyching?) then as well.

Yesterday I was lathering up my hair when I thought about how open enrollment for benefits must be coming to an end and that I needed to ask Chaos Boy whether he’d make the elections we discussed a few weeks ago. As soon as I came downstairs he brought the subject up with me. Freaky deaky!

This morning when I was getting in the shower I noticed there was no soap. (That’s what’s known as “assholing a puppy.”) When I got out of the shower I had a text from Chaos Boy apologizing because he’d realized he left a puppy soapless.

I think there’s a tv show there somewhere: a detective with psychic powers triggered by showers. Naturally she’d have a shower in her office. Let’s be honest: it’d be on the CW.


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