Not that it was a bad day.
In fact, I began the day by learning a useful new skill. It was Saturday and Chuck, being self-employed, had to drive in to the office for a few hours. Before he left, I asked him to show me how to start the lawn mower. This wasn’t the first time he'd demonstrated how to start it, it's just the first time I followed through and pushed it.
Not that it was a bad day.
In fact, I began the day by learning a useful new skill. It was Saturday and Chuck, being self-employed, had to drive in to the office for a few hours. Before he left, I asked him to show me how to start the lawn mower. This wasn’t the first time he'd demonstrated how to start it, it's just the first time I followed through and pushed it.
I also learned we have lots of fire ant hills in our yard and fire ants get testy when their mound is accosted by the clamor of motor, whirling of blades, and tramping of human feet attached to bare, edible ankles and calves.
Proud of my efforts and sporting numerous bites and blisters incurred while mowing, edging, whacking and blowing, I went into the house for a cool drink, some Benadryl and to track cat poop all over the carpet. I hate cats.
The kids were suffering a bout of stomach upset and judging by the pile of briefs and boxers on the bathroom floor, were only about 75% accurate in predicting which cramps were caused by gas and which would result in a really wet bowel movement.
After I cleaned the carpet, and while I was getting their poopy drawers in the washer, I heard the following from the boys' bathroom:
Toilet flush.
“Mom! Toilet's clogging!” Chris yells.
“Try flushing it again,” advises Alex.
“Wait!” I scream from somewhere down the hall.
<i>Flush.</i>
“Oh, no, don't flush it again!” Alex retracts.
Too late.
<i>Sound of water running and running and running.</i>
I quicken my pace down our carpeted hallway to their bathroom.
Water still running and running and…Ooooh, it's over the edge.
When I reach the door, there stand the boys playing in water and the former contents of the toilet now floating in the water.
“GET OUT OF THIS BATHROOM NOW!!!!” I scream in an octave the kids have never heard before. They, without a word, run down the hall.
What do I do? What do I do? Think. There’s water still running. Close the valve!
Whew! The water quits running.
Next I wade through the water to the garage to get the wet/dry vacuum.
Figure out how to use the wet/dry vacuum.
When the wet/dry vacuum canister fills far too quickly, I have to lift the heavy barrel and empty. Where? Ok, in the bathtub. I lift it over tub but because I'm retarded under stress I lift from the RIM and not the HANDLES and the canister drops from my hands spewing water and crap all over the floor.
I start to cry.
Vacuum - empty - vacuum - empty until, finally, the floor is dry and the poop water has not traveled all that far into the, did I mention carpeted, hallway.
Now more calmly, I inquire “Boys? Where are you?”
After a few seconds of silence, Alex offers, “We're hiding.”
“You may come out now, mommy's finished.”
The boys materialize from their very clever hiding places, all is forgiven and we embrace.
I still hate cats.