And so there I was, my husband lying on his side on the bed, entrusting his ears, and his permanent sense of hearing, to me. To me and a tiny sharp metal spoon.
For those of you who don't understand the trials of Asian ear wax... Let's just say it's...different. Thankfully it is also a recessive trait, so I will most likely only ever have the one family member needing his ears scooped.
But let's talk about something less frightening. Like the stairs to our basement:
Eight steps in five feet? No big deal. As long as you descend sideways.
They technically got grandfathered in, but I'm pretty sure these were built in the last two decades, not the last century. As Man likes to say, the seller was a cheap something-or-other.
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