I just got an email from my mom regarding a story my sister was telling her. This is just too much.
A little background: My sister is currently rooming with a friend of hers, a girl with Down Syndrome, and a girl who is taking care of the girl with Down Syndrome (that’s a total of four girls). Part of the deal my sister and her friend get is that they take part in helping out with the Down Syndrome girl.
An example of one of the things they’ve dealt with: The girl with Down Syndrome has four ice cube trays in the freezer, laid out side-by-side. My sister’s friend moved them to make room for food in the freezer, and Down Syndrome girl went berzerk because you can’t stack the ice trays. That problem has since been solved.
Now I get word there’s a new problem to deal with.
My sister’s friend went into the bathroom and on the back of the toilet sits a basket. In the basket she noticed there was a table knife. She took the knife out of the basket and put it in the dishwasher, thinking nothing of it. Nobody really knew why it was there or said anything about it. Regardless, the knife went to the dishwasher. (The dishwasher wasn’t full, though, so it wasn’t run.)
Then a while later (a day or two?), the Down Syndrome girl comes out and asks, “Where is my POOP KNIFE?”
Yeah. You’re thinking the same thing right about now that I was when I heard this story.
Apparently, the Down Syndrome girl cuts her poop before she flushes so it will go down easier. She’s been doing this forever, and normally she puts the knife in the dishwasher but this time she forgot.
Oh. My. God.
My sister and her friend have been spreading butter on their toast with a poop knife for a couple of months now.
I’m taking my own silverware if I ever visit.