I have learned that Uncle Meat loses things.
Sunday morning after Sausagefest, we had to find his phone. Its battery ran out, and he didn’t know where it was. Couldn’t leave without it. There were a few places to look. One of which was “the place he took his last shit”. I was not going to look there. He could search the shit section. We got all hands on deck and started sweeping.
I found the phone…in the car. Crisis averted.
Then, as we were driving up the hill on our way out of the valley, he said “Stop the car.”
“I need to find my shorts. I know I packed them. Better we do this now than worry. Open the trunk.”
Meat went out back and started digging for his shorts. Dig dig dig.
Then he said, “You are going to be so mad at me.”
He got back into the car and said “I’m wearing them.”
Nah, I don’t get mad. I just turn it into a Sunday Chuckle!