I came in this afternoon to spy this on my counter:
It's a rock. But I'm not gonna lie. I was concerned it was something else. On my counter.
I actually entertained the thought, briefly, that it could be a pile of poo on my kitchen counter.
How did I get to this place? I grew up in a female-dominated home where such indelicate things would never have even been discussed! Somehow I have morphed into a woman who, though such an atrocity has never occurred in her home, thought it possible, for the briefest of seconds, to have excrement on her counter.
My boys are sometimes naughty, always busy, and very creative. But none of them would do such a thing. Yet it entered. my. mind.