X Marks the Spot

I was just about done packing when I heard Dave shouting.

"What the heck is this?" he bellowed from the kitchen.

"What the heck is what?" I responded helpfully.

I was double checking my list in the bedroom.  Toothpaste.  Check.  Toothbrush.  Check.

"This," he repeated, at an even louder decibel.  Which I thought impossible.

"I don't know," I said.  Deodorant.  Check.  Corkscrew.  Check.

"What the hell????" he said.

Which, in my opinion, did not require an answer.  Puzzle book.  Check.

Dave entered the bedroom, holing up his golf shirt.  It had a big white X on it.

I recognized that big white X.

"What is this?" he repeated.

"An X," I said, stating the obvious.  Then, taking an aggressive stance, "Did you put your golf shirt on top of my Bills shirt?"

"I put it on the kitchen counter," he said.

"And apparently, right on top of my Bills shirt!!!!!"  I ran into the kitchen to assess the damage. My Bills shirt was relatively intact.  

Thank God.

I explained to Dave that the X came from white fabric paint.   I had crossed out the "Rex" on my End the Hex Rex Bills shirt with white fabric paint, since Rex Ryan was no longer the Buffalo Bills coach.

It made perfect sense.

But Dave thought it was MY fault that he put his golf shirt atop my Bills shirt.

We had a healthy debate in terms of who was more irresponsible: me for putting my Bills shirt with wet fabric paint on top of the kitchen counter to dry, or him for putting his golf shirt on top of the Bills shirt with the wet fabric paint.

I hadn't planned on taking my Bills shirt to Arizona because the paint was too wet.  Which was no longer the case.  

Bills shirt.  Check.