Add this to the list of why I don't want sons...

My Pregnancy Girlfriend (the girl who was pregnant at the same time, due two days after me, went to the same doctor as me, we had all of our pre-natal appointments at the same time so she could shove ice cream down my throat afterwards, and she had her baby two hours before I had Georgia in the same hospital, same doctor, down the hall - that friend) and her family went on vacation this week. They left on Saturday and will be home this Saturday. And since they live so close we have been chosen as the Plant Waterers/Mail Retrievers/Garbage Can Movers. Such an honor, I know.

I went there on Sunday to get Saturday's mail. We all went there on Monday night after dinner at Aunt Jan's to get Monday's mail and to bring the garbage cans out to the curb. We drove up to the house, pulled partway into the driveway on the side that did not have their car parked on it. There was a pile of eggshells next to their car's door. Nice. I'm talking a pile of shells - not one or two, likely a dozen. There were eggshells and eggs all over the driver's side, on top of the roof and on the hood. Eggs on their car all day in the sun. Nice.

I went inside, got their car keys and drove their car to the car wash. No change - now we had soapy eggs baked onto the car. It was 10:30pm by the time I got it back to our house and in our garage. I took out the pail and the dish soap, called my dad for washing advice and got to work. Luckily it didn't take long to get it all off. We'll keep the car in our garage - away from the vandals - until they get home on Saturday.

Now my garage smells like eggs. Nice.