So I figure I want to go take a dip in the pool today because it's 97 degrees outside with no clouds. So I look for my swimming trunks that should be draped over one of the towel racks and it's not there. "Hmm," I ponder. "Maybe it's in my room." So I look but it's not in any of my drawers nor in my closet. "Hmm," I postulate. "Maybe it ended up in Ala's or Andrew's room," since there's the possibility that mine and Andrew's trunks got bundled together when he did laundry or Ala accidently took it for some far out reason. Nope, neither of them have seen my trunks. "One last person," I retort. So I ask Ben, "have you seen my trunks?" He hasn't seen them either. So I search the apartment furiously again and think, "maybe the technician stole them when he came to fix the toilet and the leaky fridge." But of all things to steal, why a pair of used swimming trunks? So I sit in my thinking chair and think, think, think. And then I get a knock on my door. So I open it and there's Ben at the doorway. "Sorry, I've been wearing them this past week. They look a lot like mine. I'm sorry, here," as he hands me my own trunks back. HE'S BEEN WEARING MY SWIM TRUNKS THE WHOLE WEEK AND DIDN'T THINK ONCE THAT THEY FELT OR LOOKED A LITTLE DIFFERENT??? Ahem. If it were anybody else I would be ok with it. I'd put them on and go to the pool. But my trunks had Carl's Jr. sauce and grease spots on them. And here's the best part. I look inside, and lo and behold...SKID MARKS/CHOCOLATE TRAIN TRACKS/FUDGE MONSTER FOOTPRINTS/POOP/WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT. I politely asked him if he could wash them in his laundry, but I think I'm going to go to Walmart and get a new pair. YUCK.
Gross factor 7 (out of 10)