When he once fixed our washer, a couple of big parts were left on the floor.
"What are those?" I said.
He glanced at them and said, "Aw, don't worry about it. You don't need 'em."
I've been reading the year-end recaps on other blogs, and I realized I should tell you that I don't know how many books I read last year. I don't keep track of how many movies I watched. I don't care how many books anyone else read. Apparently I lack the OCD gene necessary to count all of that. Or to, you know, care on any level. Man, it just seems like a lot of work. Isn't life hard enough? I mean, dogs are lining up their poops according to Earth's magnetic field. Wake up, people!