Urp!

I think you might be able to surmise from our years confessing all of our craziness on this blog that Ava has a bit of a germ phobia.

If you don’t, it’s true. She’s a whack-a-doodle when it comes to germs. She wears a face mask to the doctor and sits on a

I don’t know that radiation would clean this

plastic bag while in the waiting room. Don’t ask her to take you to the hospital. All she’ll do is slow down and expect you to roll out at the emergency entrance. She’ll pick you up pretty much the same way. Just saying – call me. I have a very strong stomach. I’ll wait with you during the worst of it, and we’ll text Ava updates. Really, it’s best that way.

Now that you know this peccadillo of hers, it’s all the more strange that she refuses to wash her office coffee mug.

You have never seen anything so disgusting in your entire life. After two weeks of coffee sludge drying to the inside of the mug, only to be revived every morning with a new cup, that thing gets pretty hazardous. It looks like toxic waste. We’re all horrified.

So this morning, I had a near death experience.

She and I were standing at our friendly office Keurig, chattering away. Ava brewed her coffee in her two-week-old mug and added cream. I slid my newly washed mug into position and set it to brewing. Ava stepped into a friend’s office and chatted with her while I finished up.

I added cream to my cup and took a nice long swig of heavenly hazelnut scented coffee. You know how you look into your mug while you’re drinking? I couldn’t figure out why the inside of my mug seemed to be leaching down the sides. And what was that thing that just floated up from the bottom?

And then… Oh the HORROR. I realized I’d accidentally grabbed her coffee and was drinking out of a mug that appeared to have survived Three Mile Island.

So much for having a strong stomach.