Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
Please allow me to introduce you to a word I have invented:
wooterism (noun) – something interesting, unusual, or amusing done by Willy Dunne Wooters.
Remember Willy Dunne Wooters?
What a sweetie pie.
Willy Dunne Wooters visits me and sometimes we go out on a nice date. Once we went shopping. I don't care for shopping, but shopping with WDW was fun.
Willy Dunne Wooters does not live with me. Willy Dunne Wooters has an apartment in a nice gated community in another part of our fair city of Jacksonville.
I visited his apartment once. I will not go back.
Willy Dunne Wooters has lived in the apartment for eight years. He has never cleaned the bathroom. Not once. That frightens me. I don't want to get caught at his apartment with a desperate can't wait another minute need to pee. He also had a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes soaking in water. About two weeks later he told me he needed to go home. He asked, Remember those dishes in the sink? They're still there. I need to take care of them.
So I think you understand my reluctance to visit Mr. Wooters. My house is considerably more hygienic.
However, when I was in Willy Dunne Wooters' kitchen, I noticed he had a dishwasher. I inquired: Why don't you use the dishwasher?
I just don't, he replied (he's not always a scintillating conversationalist).
Recently, though, WDW told me he has started to use his dishwasher, but not to wash the dishes. Instead, he stores the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and then takes them out and washes them by hand in the sink.
I had to ask. I just had to ask: Why don't you leave the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, add some detergent, and run the dishwasher?
I wash dishes by hand, Willy Dunne Wooters replied. I don't use the dishwasher – except to store the dirty dishes.
That was the only explanation I could get out of Willy Dunne Wooters.
Hence, Ladies and Gentlemen, this anecdote is an example of a wooterism.
I feel quite certain we can look forward to more wooterisms.
I don't understand the refusal to use the dishwasher, but how can I not love a man who loves dogs? And who claims to love me?
Infinities of love,