Ex-Lax and Hearing Aids

I never know who will answer when I call home. My dad answered today.

“How’s it going Daddy?”

“Well, I spent most of the day on the toilet.”

“Did you take a laxative?”

“Yeah, uh, what’s the name of that? I took Ex-Lax last night. It didn’t do anything. I took…” I hear yelling in the background. “Mah-gret! What’s the name of that…”

He comes back to the phone: “Miralax. I mixed it with some real hot water. I got mama to boil some water. But it still didn’t work.” 

Pause. “A good bowel movement is better than a good meal.”

OK. Change the subject: “How’s your weather?”

“It’s nice. How’s yours?” he asked.

“It’s warm today. Gonna get cold tomorrow,” I said.

“Would you believe I found my hearing aid. It was on the floor by the chair at the breakfast table. I looked for it all over!”

Me: “I’m glad you found it.”

“Yeah, we gotta go to the doctor first thing in the morning. She’s got to take the stitches out where she removed the skin cancer.”

Me: “Oh, I didn’t know you had stitches.”