Let's start with me leaving my iPhone charger in a hotel room in Dyersville, Iowa. From there the week just went to shit.
I have locked myself out of the house not once, but twice, this week. The first time, I realized I had no keys in my pocket the very instant the door slammed shut. One phone call, and forty minutes later, Karla came home from work to unlock the door.
Two days later I did it again. This time I made sure I had a set of keys in my pocket before I went for my morning walk.....Unfortunately they were the keys to one of the tech vans that I supply equipment for at my part time job......Karla was not amused with the second phone call. I made sure I was still out walking when she came home to unlock the door. Once I got in, I had to drive back into town to return the keys I had mistakenly taken home.
I found out that a Brillo pad is the brain child of some sadistic freak. I was not aware that this ugly, gray piece of crap would fall apart and bury millions of little pieces of steel wool into my hands. Freaking painful.
I pulled the oven away from the wall to clean the side of the refrigerator and forgot that I had a glass jar of olive oil sitting atop it. And, wouldn't you know it, it was full when it hit the floor and shattered. It took forever to clean that sloppy, oily, mess. I believe I may had ruined a broom in the process.
The good thing about olive oil is when you mop the floor the end result is a surface with a beautiful, glossy, shine. The bad thing is that it is most definitely not a good idea to walk on said surface as it is now slicker than snot.
I caught a really nasty summer cold and took just one day off from the household chores. Can someone tell me how a house can go to complete hell in just one day?
It was almost as if the lawn knew I wasn't feeling good and decided to grow a foot over night. The laundry went from non-existent to a mountainous pile and I swear the neighbors must have come over and dropped off all their dishes for me to wash.
Speaking of dishes.....When I was growing up we never used silverware; we ate with our hands. My mom said that she grew up poor in the Philippines and silver ware was just not a common item in her household. In fact, the only time my brothers and I ever used silver ware was either at school or at grandma's.
Looking back, I don't dispute that Mom grew up poor. But I kind of wonder if she may not have been feeding us boys a line of shit about the silver ware. I wonder if she just hated washing cutlery. If she were to confess to me that that were indeed the case I wouldn't hold it against her. In fact, if I knew I wouldn't get the stink eye from Karla, I'd eat with my hands just so I would have one less piece of silver ware to worry about. But, for the love of God, I must teach the kids to eat the right way. What ever the hell that means.
Anyway, back to the house cleaning.
Part of the problem is Tera, aka, the Trail Master. She walks in the door, kicks off her shoes, and leaves them where they lay. She gets on the computer, takes off her socks, and leaves them on the floor. She gets a drink and leaves her glass by the computer. She starts an art project and leaves it on the table. It doesn't take a detective to figure out where Tera had been and what she was doing.
Then there is Karla ---- the little Baker from Hell. I still can't fathom how she can burn the hell out of food and it still tastes good. Cookie sheets, muffin pans, pots, the family pets......They all end up with some kind of charred piece of nastiness on them......And I have to scrub the hell out of all of them. That's how I ended up with all the steel wool buried into my hands.
One time Karla forgot about a batch of chocolate chip cookies and burned them way beyond the point of edible. I looked at the smoking mess I pulled out of the oven and told Toby, "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say these cookies actually look like double fudge chocolate chip."
Toby nodded his head in agreement and proceeded to chisel the cookies up and place them into a ziploc bag.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I'm gonna see if I can talk someone into trying out a double fudge chocolate chip cookie." He said with a devilish grin.
"If you come home with a black eye," I said, "Then I will know that you were successful."
The last thing I did this week was break the door off of the cabinet under the sink. All I did was lean on it a little as I went to retrieve a garbage bag. Shit.
Upon closer inspection I realized that I was not going to be able to reattached the door as the holes that I ripped the screws out of were all wallered out. (I don't really know if "wallered" is an actual word....But it's a word my family uses all the time)
Not being a handy man I did what I thought was the next best thing. I gently set the door back into place and waited for Karla to get home.
Every thing went according to my evil plan. Karla came home, needed something from under the sink, went to open the door, and.......
"AAAAHHH!"
I looked at Karla, who was holding the door in her hand.
"Whadya do?" I ask, feigning complete ignorance.
"Remind me that I have to fix the door this weekend."
"Damn," I said, "You brute."
Of course, now that I let the cat out of the bag, I'm sure to catch a rash of shit.
Oh well, maybe she'll send me to my room. After the way this week has gone, I can live with that.
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