I was having all kinds of inspiration about what I was going to write tonight just enjoying the daylights outta myself. I was feeling 'purtee' smug, I was. Take that smug and raise it exponentially because I was getting ahead on tomorrow's lunchtime chores. I had a bowl of beans, fresh from the farmer's market, all washed and snapped and ready to cook for Sunday lunch. I had a mess of squash (Southern speak for enough to feed 5), also from the farmer's market, washed, sliced, and ready for tomorrow. I am wo-man,hear me ROAR! Ok..I'm a fraidy cat – MEOW.
You know that sniff Barney Fife of Mayberry used to let out when he was particularly smug and self-satisfied? I had it down to a fine science by the time I bagged those squash. I could see the end of my tunnel for today. I was a mere 5 heavenly minutes from retiring to my derriere to pretend I was eating bon-bons while watching cabana boys. Yep, that was my plan, and I was rejoicing at the idea of sticking to it.
I flipped the switch on the disposal in the next to the last move before I could indulge in my nightly ritual of hot chocolate. Yes, I know it is so hot that Satan wants his weather back. I've seen the sign on Facebook. However, NOTHING gets between me and a nightly cup of hot chocolate...not even global warming. Not even my CHILDREN. They learned early in life that if they reached for 'the cup', they'd draw back a nub. I'll lay down my life for them. I just won't give up my habit. Not that I need rehab or anything. I'll consider that when I'm ready to SELL my children for Hershey's cocoa. I mean...when I'm ready to sell BOTH of them at once. Short of that threshold, I deny having a problem. But, I digress.
I was the Proverbs woman to my sink disposal which was acting as my servant-girl. I was the master of my domain. (I'm a liberated woman, ya know.) It was chugging away while I wiped up counters. I was reaching a point of internal harmonic convergence and could feel words getting ready to drip from my fingers onto the keyboard. I was antsy to start writing. Those cabana boys would have to wait. I turned to flip off my servant-machine.
In an nano-second, I realized that the disposal had stopped following orders, and water was backing up into the sink. Along with debris from shelling all those green beans. In the next nano-second, the sink began to vibrate in a way that I knew was NOT harmonic convergence with me and my impulse to write the #1 best blog post in the universe tonight. Before I could blink, water began spewing out from under my sink with the force of a fire hydrant turned on to cool down city slickers in a heat wave like the one we had this week.
Remember, I am in the midst of the great, time sucking renovation from insanity-land. So, I have no cabinet doors on that side of the kitchen. Meaning...all that water was streaming at the speed of the space shuttle from one side of the kitchen to the other. There was one obstacle in the way of that jetted spray. ME! One of them cabana boys might as well have shoved me into a pool I was so wet. I like that version much better than what was happening to me. I'm old, but I'm not dead.
I let out a yelp that resulted in 2 of my 3 testosterone units running from opposite corners of the house to observe the action. I want you to know one thing. Slapstick on TV is a lot funnier than plumbing crises in your own kitchen at 10p on Saturday night when you are 5” from enjoying virtual bon-bons and cabana boys. Sigh...the life I live.
Thank heavens my fellas are fairly handy with tools and mop rags. We got the cabinet cleaned out, a fan hooked up to dry the wood, and the floor mopped up. My husband sat in the now dry floor and muttered to himself about the logistics and physics of how I managed to pull off such an impressive feat. I realized I was shaking like a leaf from the shock of being hosed down by green bean effluent. I also realized I needed a bath to recover from my spa treatment of ground up green bean shells and strings. Hmm....wait a minute.!
(Note to self—research market for green bean pulp as an anti-aging spa treatment. Measure turkey neck in the AM to see if yours has tightened up any from tonight's saturation. Also, check cellulite in case you've just discovered the new miracle treatment for that too! This could be a happy accident!)
I came wandering back downstairs about the time the man who promised to love me, honor me, and clean up plumbing explosions at 10P on Saturday nights for me had begun to button up the disaster scene. I was still shaking and in NO MOOD to entertain you people tonight. Know what I mean? Gone was all that inspiration. My harmonic convergence had been interrupted, and I was not getting my mojo back tonight no matter how much ya'll sweet talked me. Or bribed me with cheap chocolate.
I wobbled down to the family room still shaky-kneed from the suddenness of my disaster and collapsed in my recliner. Lord-ee, what I wouldn't have given for a bon-bon and cabana boy. It's a shame that real life doesn't include one of those holodecks from Star Trek, so I could fill my own prescription!
I decided to take one last swoop through cyberspace before I called it a night. I was so exhausted I momentarily thought about forgoing my hot chocolate. I flipped on the computer and caught up with whose been doing what while I nearly drowned myself tonight. Thank ya'll for noticing that I was in crisis, by the way. I was feeling decidedly anti-social, and for once decided to keep my warped sense of humor to myself. I opted not to comment to anyone. Don't everyone thank me at once.
Last I had checked my blog, I was sitting on 4976 visits and had been sitting there for 6 torturous hours. I was so glad everyone but me had a life today with places to go, people to see, and things to do. Ok, I was really happy for ya'll till I looked like the Jolly Green Giant. After that, it was every man for himself
Sigh...that magic 5,000th visit as going to have to wait till ya'll came back from wherever ya'll go at about 6p on Friday night till about 9P on Sunday night. I had resigned myself to having to be patient with ya'll because that's the kind of wonderful person I am. It's ok. I'm getting used to it. Really. It doesn't affect me at all. I mean, I don't think anyone notices the tic I develop about 6P on Saturdays because it usually disappears by about 10P on Sunday. My 2 therapists on retainer and my counselor tell me it is nothing to worry about. And, I trust them to tell me the truth.
I sank down into the comfort of my lovey chair and got ready to lick my wounds. Then my eyes registered my blog status page. While I had been engaged in the great plumbing vs green bean wars, you peeps had been busy! I had jumped from 4976 to 5025 blog visits!!!!! Wha???? Whooo??? How???? Wha?????
Who needs cabana boys? Who needs bon-bons? Who needs hot cho... wait...let's don't get too carried away! I love ya'll and all...but....
Life. I guess it is all about the agony and the ecstasy. Thanks to you guys, I got to experience one right after the other tonight. Thank you for every time you asked a friend to follow my blog. Thank you for every time you chose to hit the 'share' button on your facebook link. Thank you for every time you emailed the blog link to a friend. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You have meant the world to me this last 2 months and 5,000+ clicks. I know a lot of you came by accident and kept on moving. I know some of you came a few times and moved on. But, some of you....some of you found a place to call home. I'm glad you came to stay a spell. I mean...what kinda loser would I be if all I had was virtual cabana boys? ;-)
Love you long. Love you strong. Friady cats rule. See ya tomorrow? Meow.......