I just wish I didn't look like death warmed over. I've got my smart girl glasses on and a ME Investigator polo shirt with my dark blue pajama bottoms. I sure hope I don't have to go under cover today because I took all of my disguises out to be washed after an unfortunate ice cream bucket accident. (Don't ask...you don't want to know.)
Yesterday afternoon I realized that toilets hate me. It seems I have an inordinant number of bathroom incidents to report to you people. Last week when I was at Mom and Dad's for the reunion the toilet backed up and overflowed while I was in there. It was...bad.
In a panic, I plunged my whole arm in the toilet to see if I could dislodge the blockage. Which is truly disgusting, but, like I said, I was panicking. When that didn't work, I stuck my head out the bathroom door and yelled to my sisters and cousin who were chatting around the kitchen table, "I need a plunger! Now!" My oldest sister, June, jumped up with a smirk on her face and said, "Ey Ey, Captain! I'm on it!" She suluted me and then ran off down the hall while I struggled to turn off the water supply.
Pretty quick I hear June running back, "I've got it! Here! I'm passing the batton!" She did her best Chariots of Fire impression and handed me the plunger. (I am not the only smarta$$ in my family.)
So, I ran back into the bathroom and unclogged the toilet before Dad got back from playing golf and lined all 38 of us up for a stearn lecture on using only four squares of toilet paper. Back when we were kids we got that lecture a lot. June once made the mistake of asking, "What if four squares just isn't enough?" Dad gave her "the look" and said, "It better damn well be enough." Okay, then. Four squares. Plenty.
So, then yesterday the handle on my toilet at home stopped working. I had to take the lid off and see what happened. Sure enough, the little arm thingy inside had snapped in half. I reached in to pick it out of the bottom of the tank and accidentally snagged the hose on my watch...which sent a four foot water spout spraying up from the tank and directly into my face.
In other news, I managed to murder two more plants. A friend of mine was actually foolish enough to give me an orchid. An orchid! The most tempramental of all plants. It took me a record two days to defoliate it, leaving a sad, bare stalk that would put Charlie Brown's Cristmas tree to shame.
Just call me Agent Orange.