Friday, April 30, 2010

Beauty v Brains

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.

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