Ah.. the sweet taste of disinfectant

My neighbors are smokers. Yesterday, when I went out to the backyard, there was our neighbor, smoking away on her deck. After a moment of small talk (and the cigarette was used) she informed me that she had something for the baby. She emerged from her house with a dusty (but new) beach ball and a nightlight. She started to blow up the beach ball, but needless to say, she couldn’t put forth the effort with her smoky-filled lungs. She hands me the ball and explains that she doesn’t have the lung power and tells me to continue to blow up the beach ball. Um… Im thinking to myself, “Im gonna die from second hand smoke!!” I didn’t want to be rude, so I (very carefully) blew up the rest of the ball. I didn’t blow it up all the way for fear of the ball getting too full and pushing all that air back into my mouth. The whole time I told myself to not inhale, seriously, I don’t want to die a premature death! Hehe. Anyways, I told Scott the story and all he could say was how I kissed the neighbor, and comments on the disgusting air inside the ball every time he walks by. So, I couldn’t take it any longer, I let out all the air (in a wide open area) and disinfected the beach ball with Clorox wipes. After a careful cleaning, I blew the ball up again. This time it tasted like disinfectant, but I didn’t seem to mind.