Grossest. Story. EVER.

Get a load of this one y'all.

The other day the Hubby changed the Wee One's poopy diaper because I tend to totally lose my sense of smell when she shits her pants.  It's convenient strange how that happens, right? So anyway, he must have been pretty careless about what he was doing and I have no idea how in the love of all that is holy this could have happened, but I innocently walked into the family room and immediately stepped in something warm and squishy.  A toddler turd.  That was on my floor.  And now stuck between my toes.

JESUS HERBERT CHRIST.
I HAD HUMAN EXCREMENT STUCK BETWEEN MY MOTHERFUCKING TOES, YOU GUYS.

I gagged and screamed and laid down flat on the couch and demanded that the Hubby clean my foot.  Then I hopped outside on my good foot to hose down the contaminated foot with water.  Still dry heaving and screaming and swearing the entire way.  The Hubby laughed the entire time.  Dickhead.

How do you drop poop from a diaper, on to the floor, and not notice?
OR, maybe he noticed it, but left it there to get me.  It's probably part of his plan to drive me batty so I'll commit myself and he'll be free to hog the bed and snore all night without me smacking him in the face to SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY, YOU ASSHOLE SNORING POOP DROPPING FOOL.

I drew you a picture of this traumatizing incident.

I need to give my therapist a call now.