Last night, I asked the husband to use some Drano on the upstairs tub. Two women + lots of hair = slow-running drain.
Because he is awesome, he did. It was kind of late, though, so I said I'd clean the tub in the morning when I showered for my job interview [because I am not the kind of gal who goes to an interview all stanky. That's just how I roll.].
This morning, I get up, do my morning stuff [which today, for some reason, included cleaning off my desk. Why not?], then start cleaning the tub so I can get ready.
Well, I sprinkle Comet [old school cleaning, that's right] and start scrubbing. All's going well until I rinse the tub. And the Comet water drains . . . and then stops. With about 1 1/2 inches of blue water in it.
So I am of COURSE freaking out, because I immediately think I've broken the drain by mixing Comet and residual Drano and have also created mustard gas. I dither for a bit, wondering what the fuck I'm supposed to do - Get a hazmat suit? Call Homeland Security? Go fetal?
I finally grab my bath stuff and head down to the other bathroom and take a shower, all the while CONVINCED that I had somehow poisoned myself and, since I had the bathroom window open, was also slowly poisoning the neighborhood.
After showering and somewhat calming myself, I decide to be a grownup and peek into the bathroom to see if maybe, miracle of miracles, the tub has drained and the mustard gas has cleared. I hold my breath [seriously. I did.], open the door and look.
The tub still hasn't drained.
I don't dare take a breath.
So I get ready, scooch past the toxic area, and head out to my interview. I call the husband, explain what happened, listen to him tell my that I am not, in fact, dying, and then he asks me if I'm sure the tub isn't draining.
Me: It's not! I checked it again! Are you sure I'm not poisoned?
E: I already told you. You're fine. You're talking and breathing and driving, right?
Me: Yes, but . . .
E: You're fine. Did you stop up the tub?
Me: No! I was just rinsing the tub!
E: O.k., I'll swing by the house and check on it.
I go to my interview, run some errands, get the girl, run some more errands and then head home. Where the tub has drained and is sparkly clean.
I call E to find out what happened.
Me: Did you get the tub to drain.
E: [Pause] You're so pretty. [This is what we say in our family when someone pulls a COMPLETELY bonehead move.]
Me: Oh my god, I fucking stopped up the tub, didn't I?
E: You're really beautiful. [A bonehead move, like, say, accidentally stopping up the tub and then adamantly swearing that you did NOT stop up the tub.]
Me: GODDAMNIT! I can't believe I did that! I'm so sorry you had to leave work to check on the tub.
E: You're so, so pretty.
Me: I'm so sorry.
E: It's o.k. B and I had a good laugh about it. He also reminded me of the time you thought you broke the printer and couldn't use it and when I asked you if you had it plugged it, you said you did, and it turned out you forgot to plug it in.
Me: Both of you can fuck right off.