So every morning when J is on his way home or gets home, I always ask how his night was. More often than not lately it's been "Rainy. Boring." It's been a wet fall so far here in southern Ohio, and people don't do as much stupid shit when it's raining. Or at least they stay home to do it.
During the week I'm already at work when he gets off, so it's usually a shorter conversation, and he'll give me the full details when he wakes up and I am off work. On weekends I am home, duh, so more of the details come out in the morning.
This morning he came home and I asked how his night was. I got the usual "Wet and boring" response at first. He finished tearing down his uniform (Saturday nights are his 'Friday') and hopped in bed. There's always wind-down conversation when we are going to sleep, so I said "Nothing happened, huh?" and he replies, "My gloves are on the dining table. Don't touch them."
Hmm, I think. All I can say in response is, "Ew."
Turns out they pulled over a drunk couple, the female passenger was so lit she was vomiting out the side of the jeep. On the highway. I don't think I need to explain the laws of physics and moving vehicles to you guys, but the back window was open. I think you get where this is going. Fortunately J had the wherewithal to put ON his gloves. Which is fortunate because he didn't even know what it was, thought it was mud. Then another deputy, who didn't have gloves on, touched the door. EW EW EW!
I said "At least she wasn't driving!" J responds, "Yeah but her boyfriend was drunk too. Blew a .215." I'm fairly sure in most other states that's over the limit. Ohio law is .08, which means this guy blew almost three times the driving limit.
But at least he told me about the gloves before I got up...why he put them on the DINING table I do not know.
Kind of like the day I came home and there was a brown paper 'Evidence' bag on the kitchen counter...I was afraid to go near it. Turns out it was extra bullets for the rifle. Could have been much worse, right?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
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