Things you need to know to understand this story:
1. The first time I left on a business trip, and Thunder was left alone all week, he amused himself by eating a portion of our kitchen floor, right in front of the refrigerator. This section now has no linoleum, no protection from liquid, and is difficult to keep clean.
2. I'm in the process of painting a 2-D wooden horse for an Automotive Recyclers Association convention, which is being held in Lexington this year. I'm painting the horse for KATRA, the Kentucky Auto and Truck Recyclers Association. At the convention in October, these wooden horses that people sponser are going to have a real live race, and it is going to be awesome. Currently, the body of my horse is drying, and he is therefore precariously positioned in his bas, balancing on his tail instead of his feet. He has a jockey on top of him.
3. The hole in the counter where our sink is located is crooked, and the plastic pipes that connect the sink to the drain pipe in the wall are rather contorted to fit into everything, because the sink sits in the counter crooked. Sometimes, when we are extra lucky, the pipes come apart and everything that goes down the sink drains from the time they come apart to the time we figure it out goes into the cabinet under the sink. It's super fun.
4. My house is an vile pit of filth that refuses to be clean.
Lunch Time Pleasantries (working title, open to suggestion)
Imagine my surprise when I opened the refrigerator door and suddenly (and without warning) everything that was in the door was now on the floor! Then, SHOOT! A suspiciously milky-white liquid was quickly gurgling out of its bottle and across the floor!
WHO put the milk in the refrigerator DOOR?! And why!
No time for such luxurious angry questioning, as I realized the milk would soon disappear under the icebox if not stopped. I picked up the half-gallon of milk and set it on the counter. [Note to self: from now on only buy full gallons, as they do not fit in the door.] I grabbed my "floor washcloth" and started soaking up the milk making its way towards the bottom of the fridge. There was just too much of it! I put the floor wash cloth at the base of the cold storage chest to act as a barrier, and grabbed my "dishes and other nice things that might be come near your mouth" wash cloth (this is an important distinction when there is a dog and a man who likes oil and engines in the house!) and started soaking up all the milk. I had the hot water on full blast, and rinsed and soaked, and rinsed and soaked.
Well at least Thunder was being good outside and not barking at anything.
Then I noticed that the boots I was wearing were tracking milk from the floor by the refrigerator to the sink. Once I got the puddle of milk off the floor, I took the boots off (now I'm barefoot) and wiped up my milky footprints. Being my mothers daughter, I then went and filled the bucket with hot, soapy water, and started mopping the entire kitchen and dining room. I don't know if I've ever been so annoyed while I was mopping, but I totally forgot that my KATRA horse was balancing on its tail. I knocked into the table with the mop and he came crashing down on his back, crushing the jockey on top. I hope they can recover by October, when they have to race.
I cleaned up the milk bottle and put it back in the fridge, tucked away in a safe place on the top shelf.
I got my lasagne out of the microwave, which I had heated up before this minor distraction took my lunch break away, and started to go outside. Imagine my surprise to see a glorious sunny day had turned into a downpour! Thunder! Poor Thunder! I put my plate on the counter and ran out the door. Poor Thunder was sitting hunched over in the grass, staring at the stoop. His rope was stuck and he couldn't move any farther. "Oooooh my poooor puuuppy!" I said, as I ran to untangle his rope, and let my wet muddy dog (and my own wet, now grass covered feet) into my freshly mopped kitchen.
I ate my lasagne and started to get myself a glass of ice water before sitting back down to work. Drip.
Drip.
My jaw sets.
Drip.
>:-(
I feel it on the top of my foot.
Drip.
I tear open the cabinet doors in front of the sink. Of course the pipes broke apart! Why wouldn't they?! It is stressful having a half gallon of milk slowly rinsed down you.
Less milky but still white water over the entire inside of the underside of the sink.
Moral of the story: Joanna will not preserve any remaining sanity much longer in this broken filthy non-home.
