no one makes me laugh like he does

With the exception of mothers, who have eagle eyes and happen to notice the smallest of details pertaining to our children (such as unsecured snaps on the back of babies shirts), my husband has a theory that the vast majority of people in society are completely oblivious to what is going on in the world around them.

Whenever we go somewhere, Charlie has an uncanny ability to spot drivers who are talking on their cell phones, putting on make up (or shaving), while drinking coffee and eating a muffin.

"People are totally clueless!!" I often hear him say. And much to my chagrin, he frequently tests his theory. For instance, when he goes to our community pool and checks in with the security guard on staff, he will confidently flash a copy of his library card - as opposed to his Resident Card - and then enter our address as "1, 2, 3 Sesame Street."

Likewise, I have lost track of the number of times he has clearly signed his name as "Elmer J. Fudd" or "Bugs Bunny" on movie rental or credit card receipts, just to see if the merchants are paying attention. To this day, no one has ever said a thing. But it always cracks me up to see him in action.

Last night, I changed a particularly dirty diaper on Henry and Charlie wisely decided that instead of throwing it out in our hotel trashcan, he would run it down and toss it in a dumpster, located outside of the hotel.

So my husband tucked the dirty diaper in his short's pocket and then, took the elevator from the 15th floor to the lobby. Unfortunately, the elevator stopped at every floor - the entire way down - to let new people in. And at some point, the elevator got jammed. So there he was, with a heinous diaper in his pocket, backed up to the corner and desperately praying that the waste fumes from the contents in his pocket, didn't overcome the entire elevator.

He said that by the time the elevator ultimately arrived at the lobby, everyone's nostrils were flared, everyone was holding their breath and one hotel guest, who appeared to be slightly intoxicated gagged out, "What the hell is that smell?!"

Charlie was so fixated on getting out of the elevator as fast as he could, he squeezed by everyone and sprinted through the dimly lit environment and to the nearest dumpster, with a stink cloud trailing him. He didn't stop to talk to anyone, not even my co-workers who had congregated in the lobby and were trying to call him over.

He called me a short time later from the hotel sushi bar, where he was enjoying a well earned rainbow roll and bottle of Sapporo, to tell me that his theory of oblivion in the general population most definitely does not extend to their sense of smell.

Hopefully, this will conclude his research.

My bladder muscles can't handle it anymore.