A box?

I am working the 3:30 to midnight shift at work. This means, among other things, that my sleeping habits are messed up, my coffee addiction is back in a wicked way, and the mister and I never see each other awake during the week, as our schedules are completely opposite.

Because we never see each other, we talk on the phone a lot.

Tonight's conversation included this gem, which I thought I'd share with you.

Both of us: blah blah blah, chat chat, nothing exciting.

Him: Wow, the kitchen garbage smells.

Me [wondering what could stink, as today was garbage day and the can was empty when I left for work]: So take it out.

Him: Nah. I stuck a box on top of it. It's good.

Me: Are you serious? A box? Take the trash out!

Him: But I don't want to.

Me: If I come home and the kitchen smells because you couldn't be bothered to deal with it and just left it for me, I'm going to be very pissed.

[for similar sentences, see nagging section 5(b): the toilet does not scrub itself, or argument 124: fairies do not chip the dried cheese off your nacho plate, my friend. *I* do.]

Him: But the box...

Me: Trash. Out.

Him: Fine. I'll tie up the bag, but I'm just going to put it on the stoop. You have to put it in the big can.

Me: Fine.

Him: Fine.