Levels of Acceptable Disgust

I have noticed some hypocrisy in my heart.

At the beauty salon, if a person comes in who hasn't washed their hair in a few days, I find it disgusting. Those extra few grams of grease take away my smile. But I am suddenly brave when I'm evicting dead animals during tear-out work. Crawling around under the porch with all the cobwebs? No prob.

Here's a disgusting story. Once, while cleaning out a clogged drain in the basement floor, I found a foreign object stuck in the pipe. It was a basketball!! A tiny little basketball! I couldn't see well enough to twiddle it out, so I had to get that water out of the drain somehow. The water was black. Why would it be black? I took a piece of copper pipe which was about 4 feet long and sucked the water out, stopping before the water reached my face. Then I spat it into a nearby bowl. After a while I could see far enough into the drain to coax the ball out with some coat hanger wire. I brought the little basketball home and said, "Jeremy! Smell this thing! It's really stinky!" He refused.

Funny, he usually sniffs things when I say that.