Gas

Several months ago, after I came to the cabin a day later than everybody else, it was revealed that they had all had a wonderful time farting while I wasn't there. This whole time they've all been holding it in or sneaking outside to let one loose because I'm apparently giving off the impression that I'm too "fin" (which in this case I'll translate to "fancy") to fart in front of. This revelation was a little upsetting, honestly, because I think I exude loserliness. I mean, yes, it's absolutely true that I've never farted even once in my entire life, but that doesn't mean that I'm offended when others do it. As much a blow as learning of my reputation was to me then, it actually paid off this weekend when Fancy Mara was spared the task of crawling into the attic to lay insulation. Who would even dare ask me to do such a job? Get dirty? Crawl on my hands and knees? I think not. Sarianne and The Swede, however, were born for this so I got to stay inside and spare myself from a broken nail or some smeared mascara. The masks were allegedly to protect them from the insulation and potential rodent droppings. Pssht. I think we all know that they were really protecting themselves from all the farting they were surely doing up there.