Because I got nothin’ today, I will offer an amusing anecdote while simultaneously insulting my readers:

But first:

Into the laundromat stroll a youngish couple, he a whiskered slab of man with pectoral muscles like sides of beef, she all legs and shorts and hoodie. They proceed to load up a washer with NOTHING and watch it run, and at the end of its cycle move the NOTHING into a dryer and dry it.

And people call me strange.

I found the preceding anecdote at a new-to-me blog called The Neanderpundit, which, I feel it necessary to say, is in no way affiliated with The TrogloPundit. Neanderthals weren’t necessarily cave-dwellers, y’know, and even if they were, that only accounts for a very small subset of said cave-dwellers, while said cave-dwelling is a necessary prerequisite to being a troglodyte, and therefore a TrogloPundit.

But I know. Some of you people will completely miss the nuances and the details, and will wonder whether Neanderpundit and I are in some kind of pre-historic — thus doubly proving your linguistic and historical ignorance — cahoots.

Anyway. Reading the above anecdote reminded me of something that happened on the TrogloFamily’s recent trip to Pennsylvania. More specifically, on the 17-hour drive home. We’d stopped at a rest stop in Ohio. On my way to accomplish the purpose of the stop, I found myself following a large, 30-something year old man – a “a whiskered slab of man with pectoral muscles like sides of beef,” coincidentally – into the men’s room.

He stopped next to one of the bathroom stalls (I was delayed in getting past him to my own business, because the rest room was crowded). Out of the stall came a young boy, maybe 6 years old, who had been waiting there for the man to return. Or so it appeared.

The man greeted the boy: “All good?” he asked.

“Yep,” the boy answered.

“Set a record?” the man asked.

“Nope,” the boy answered. And then they left.

It was, quite possibly, the most sincere example of father-son bonding I have ever heard.

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