Cat poop on the shower curtain and other highlights of the week

On the way home from the grocery store tonight, I sat next to a drunk man on the subway. I didn't do it intentionally, but these things happen.

He leaned forward to the another man across the aisle and said, "Is this the 6 train?"

The man across the aisle said, "No. Get off at the next station and go back downtown to catch the 6."

"I'm going to the Bronx," my seat mate said.

"This train doesn't go to the Bronx."

"Then I guess I'll go to the Brooklyn Bridge."

"This train isn't headed to Brooklyn either. We're going uptown."

"I'm drunk," the man said, "but I'm happy. Downtown, uptown, everyone should be happy!"

And the guy across the aisle said, "That's a good idea."

With train directions sorted out as best as they could be, the happy drunk noticed me. He said, "Hi. You like to read?"

I was reading a book, or actually, I was holding a book and looking like I was reading, which is sometimes a good strategy when you want to be invisible on the subway and avoid talking to strangers. It's not a fool-proof strategy, though.

"Yeah, I like to read," I said.

"Reading makes you happy. That's good. Everyone should be happy," he said.

And then he said, "God bless you, lady. I love you."

The train entered a station, the man exited, and the people sitting around me watched him walk on the train across the platform which was going to neither the Bronx nor Brooklyn.

When I got home, I told my husband a man on the train said he loved me. My husband didn't think it was as amusing as I did.

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Earlier today, half-way through her math problems, my daughter said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you there was cat poop on the shower curtain this morning."

(The litter box is in the bathroom. I'm not sure how the poop got on the curtain, but it did.)

My daughter had cleaned the mess when she discovered it, which is a good thing, and the remaining stain came out in the wash, which is another good thing. And, I learned in the laundry room while washing the curtains that Joe on the 5th floor is retiring this month, Veronica on the 3rd floor is going to have a baby, and the funky smell in the basement is gone. All good things.

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My son says he's in training. Any opportunity to work out, he takes it. On Monday he asked me to time how long he could sprint up and down the park path, and today he handed me the stopwatch to see how long it took him to jump rope 50 times. Later, he asked me to time him writing his copywork, but I said, "Let's put the stopwatch away for awhile."

This season he is doing two kinds of martial arts, playing soccer, and waiting for the spring baseball try-outs.

He also is in training making fart noises under his armpit. Too bad for him, I am not a fan, and I banned the practice from the kitchen.

Later, I banned it from anywhere within my ear shot for the rest of eternity.

I haven't heard an armpit fart in days, and I'm counting that as a highlight of the week.

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