I am a wife, and mother of two in a household that has fostered more than our fair share of pets. The downside of this distinctive and matronly title is that I get Goobered on. A lot.
I have been pooped on, peed on, and puked on more times than I can remember. On a daily basis, I endure food goobers, drink goobers, dust goobers, kid goobers, pet goobers, paint goobers, glue goobers, and UFO goobers.
An entire section of my closet is reserved for my Goober clothes: Wash and wear attire that I can sport to perform all those daily gooberish tasks.
In contrast, I can count on one hand, the number of times that I have had reason to don my little black dress that hides in the corner.
When my husband comes home from a long day at the office, dressed in his Oxford shirt and dockers, he will always look me over before submitting to huggies and kissies.
"Just checking for Goobers dear."