This morning I went to the grocery store, and I bought a box of those yellow-red cherries that are so sweet and so good.  I washed them and set them on the counter next to the sink.  I've been eating them all day, three or four at a time, and I've been throwing the stems and spitting the pits into our garbage disposal.  Tonight, Beth saw me doing that.

Beth: Don't spit those seeds into the garbage disposal.  It won't grind them up.

Ed: Why not?  I've been doing it for decades.

Beth: I know you have, and I've been taking them out for decades.  They're like rocks.  It won't grind them up.

Ed: Oh.  Sorry. 

And she laughed.

Who knew?  We've been married 36 years, and I've been spitting cherry pits into the garbage disposal for 36 years.  That stopped tonight, but I honestly had no idea it didn't grind them up and that she was digging them out.  I know it doesn't grind up spoons, either, when they accidentally fall into that thing, but it puts some nasty jagged edges on them.  I've had more than one tongue wound to vouch for that.

I guess I didn't read the manual.  Probably because she threw it away before I could get to it.  Yeah, right.

ED