Cleaning up after a three year old who didn't quite make it to the potty in time - despite encouraging her several times she might want to try - is such a glamorous way to spend a Friday night.What I would have given to trade that Friday night's pee clean-up for the chain of events that transpired here tonight . . .
Friday is typically cleaning day at our house. I take advantage of our earlier than usual arrival home after school and typically begin the cleaning routine immediately after securing after-school snacks for the girls. Tonight was no exception. Set to begin my weekly routine, I moved one load of clothes into the dryer (I assumed Shortcake would appreciate clean pajamas at bedtime), started up a load of towels in the washer, and then retreated to the back of the house with cleaning supplies in hand.
By the time I had finished cleaning the bathrooms and bedrooms, I figured it was probably time to add fabric softener to the wash. I'm sometimes oblivious to things around me when I'm in cleaning mode (The General is slightly frightened by my demeanor when I go to That Place and when encountering me in passing will usually press himself against the wall as I rush by him, a maneuver that does not amuse me in the least). As a result of this focus, it wasn't until I felt the unmistakable sensation of wet socks that I realized the floor under our washer and dryer was covered with water.
A moment of frenzy set in manifesting with me pleading, "No, no, no, no" over and over for a solid thirty seconds. Our seasoned washing machine was filled to the very brim with water and I guess water either spilled over the top (unlikely considering no signs of water were observed down the sides of the washing machine) or leaked out the bottom. Really, I have no idea. All I know is that I risked electrocution by unplugging the washer, turned off the running dryer, grabbed several towels, mopped up as much of the water as I could, and then silently panicked about how much water had seeped under our new wood floors. My next thought was Shop Vac. After grabbing a pair of snow boots and while still fretting about an entire load of towels sitting in a full drum of water (of course this would happen when washing the most absorbent items we own!), I worked in the near dark for nearly ten minutes to open the door to our small shed where the Shop Vac is housed. I cleared away snow, pulled, kicked, cursed, and pleaded yet nothing was working in terms of getting that damned door open.
I went back into the house and, while fighting back tears of frustration, made a call to our wonderful neighbors to inquire whether they had a Shop Vac we could borrow. Like a knight in shining armor, Tom brought one over promptly. Helpful and friendly neighbors are about as comforting to me in times of crisis as a dozen doughnuts were to my dad when our basement was flooding in the dead of winter many years ago.
Now here's where things get really comical. After Tom left I sucked up some of the water out of the washer as well as the small amount of water left on the floor. Then I thought to myself, "I wonder if I turn the washer back on and turn it to the spin cycle, maybe the water will drain on its own and I can just throw the towels into the dryer". Decent problem solving, don't you think? In theory it was a wonderful idea and initially it seemed as though it just might work. That was, of course, before the washer decided to go all demon possessed on me and randomly begin refilling with water. I immediately pulled the power thinking that would solve the problem, but alas a demon possessed washer defies even the most sound logic. The water continued to pour into the barrel as my panic level rose with each drop of water. I attempted to turn off the water supply but those knobs weren't budging so I did the only other thing I knew to do: I gave the washer a heartfelt "SCREW YOU!" kick to the side. And the water halted immediately.
The real kick-me-when-I'm-already-down part of this entire ordeal is that I now will be forced to spend precious weekend hours at Satan's playground - aka the laundromat, a place I proclaim as one of the most awful places on the face of this Earth - to finish the rest of the laundry. I suppose the rest of our time together this weekend will be spent shopping for a washing machine between sometime between The General's basketball game and Shortcake's school art fair.
It's okay to wish you led a life as exciting as mine.
Ugh. I've been throwing myself a little pity party this whole week and it really needs to stop. It's one thing after another lately and tonight's events were just the icing on the cake. I'm so sick of posting about doom and gloom, and I'm sure you're just as sick reading it. The last thing you all need is me bringing you down with me, and as a result, I'm deciding right here and now to impose a moratorium on any additional posting until I have something chipper and cheery to share. Hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later.