Dirty windows

Each morning I look out my bedroom window and think, “I really need to wash my windows.” Then, I go about my day never thinking twice about it.

This is slightly surprising to me, even though it is my own behavior, because I love windows – I especially love looking in other people’s windows when on vacation. It isn’t a voyeuristic thing, it’s a curiosity thing – totally different.

I think Sausage Sampler would agree with me on this. Although, for her, it may be more of a ‘stop, drop, cover and roll’ kind of thing. She was recently vacationing in sunny San Diego with her girlfriend, Backyardigan, enjoying a lovely view from the 17th floor of their hotel. Being that they were in a corner room, they had windows all around and, like most of us, took advantage of the beauty by opening all of the blinds. Then, they got comfortable, real comfortable. They started to hear music and, knowing that neither of them had left the bed to turn on music or rolled on the remote, thus inadvertently turning on music, weren’t quite sure where it was coming from.

Sausage Sampler opened her eyes and quickly found the source of the music. She also quickly stopped, dropped to the floor, covered herself with the blanket and rolled out of view of the window washers while Bakyardigan remained on the bed, uncovered, and in plain (and naked) view of the crew hanging outside their dirty, dirty windows.

“She was jackin’ it in San Diego,” Drunk Whisperer informed me. “What does that mean?” I asked. “It’s from South Park and she was doing it. She was jackin’ it in San Diego,” The Responsible One confirmed then said, “Vinegar stroke.” “She is cut off,” Sausage Sampler said referring to The Responsible One and asked, “Who is the responsible one here?” “Actually, by title, she is. What is vinegar stroke?” I asked. Drunk Whisperer, who wasn’t drunk, thus didn’t need to loudly whisper, looked around the restaurant and quietly told me, “Its the face you make when you are coming and when you look into their eyes you can see into their soul.” “Yep, vinegar stroke,” Responsible One repeated and giggled.

Sausage Sampler, now regretting she shared this story with us, began chatting with The Responsible One about other matters. “This better be in the blog tonight,” Drunk Whisperer advised me. “Do you read it?” I asked. “I do, but its been about six months. I’m going to need about two minutes alone tonight to read it – maybe three.” “What are you doing alone tonight for three minutes?” The Responsible One asked and, without waiting for a response continued on, “Oh, I know what you’ll be doing. It’s been a while.” She then gave him a look, not a vinegar stroke look, but a look still. “I may need four minutes,” he stated. “Will four minutes be long enough to clean your dirty windows?” I asked. “Oh, yeah,” The Responsible One affirmed.