Friday Summed Up

I decided to clean up the kitchen.  It was almost 9 p.m.  I had already exercised and changed into pajamas.  After cleaning the kitchen, I planned to read the newspaper.

And then, suddenly, my slippers slid in a cascade of water that gushed from under the sink.  In a flash, I turned off the dishwasher and snapped the faucet off and grabbed for towels as water covered half the kitchen floor. 

I lived through this calamity once before, the night before Thanksgiving a few years back.  I knew what I must do.  I spread a carpet of towels on the floor, pulled out the miscellany of cleaning supplies and the crock-pots out from the cabinet and then put my clothes back on.  I drove straight to Albertson’s, bought Liquid Plumr and nothing else, and drove straight home.  I poured those chemicals down my sink and now, at 10:55 p.m., the dishwasher is strumming along, singing a little tune and draining its hot water down the unclogged drain.

I rock.

This morning’s adventure was a rousing success, though the 13-year old twins reported, “I’m bored,” within ten minutes of our arrival at the appropriate Community Center.  However, they soon discovered the joy of stringing popcorn and then started a game of Monopoly with a boy in an orange shirt.  I helped the little ones make reindeer puppets with brown construction paper cut-outs of their hands.  Then, they decorated snowflakes with tubes of glitter glue.  My four-year old, Grace, has an obsession with glue, particularly if glitter is involved, so she spent quite a stretch of time dotting her snowflake with little globs of sparkly goo. 

Eventually, I ended up on the chilly, goose-poop covered path which half-circled the pond.  I, ever the Pied Piper, led a procession of five boys and one girl.  I chanted, “Watch out for poop!  Don’t step in poop!” over and over again. 

When we arrived at the event, I took out my camera, only to discover it dead, so dead.  Bummer.  (Battery problem, not coronary disease.)  So, I whipped out my brand new, cute little pink cell phone and snapped cell phone pictures which are now trapped in my phone because I don’t have the foggiest idea how to transfer those photos.  Guess I’ll have to read the manual.  I’d take a picture with my newly batteried-up camera, but the house is still in a box in the back of the Disco Van and thus, no picture.  Maybe later.

My gingerbread house did not win a prize, but then, after seeing the other remarkable creations, I’m not surprised.  Clearly, some other overachievers spent more than two hours decorating their houses.  I was just happy to be back home by 1:30 p.m. . . and then, six neighborhood boys appeared to frolic and roughhouse in my yard. 

Happily, tomorrow is Saturday which can only mean one thing.  I’m jetting out of this house quicker than you can say “clogged sink” or “Mom, I’m hungry!”.