The Hellhole

Thursday, September 30, 2004

I really hate it when all the people whose blogs I like to read don't update, and in some weird relation of harmonic convergence, all of them, whether personally known to me or not, seem to scheme to not update on the same days. Grr. I didn't update either, but WAIT till you hear my excuse. In a sort of negative convergence, it seems that whenever I have a great day (like Snowball Fight/Elevator Chair Day) it is followed by an utterly shitty day. I do not use that word, "shitty" lightly or in vain, as you shall see.

My tale, much like Dorothy's, begins with a vindictive act of nature. Atlanta, while not destroyed by hurricanes Frances, Ivan, Jeanne, Alvin, Simon and Theodore, sustained an extreme amount of immense heavy sudden rainfall. This has impacted our roadways, drainage systems and water. REALLY impacted.

WARNING: TALE OF EXTREME GROSSNESS AND DISGUSTING THINGS AND HORROR COMING. Do not read if you have a weak stomach, if you have recently eaten, or plan to eat (ever), or own a house, or are pregnant or nursing.

Okay. Still with me? You know how sometimes when you belch, whatever you just ate or drank makes a brief...uh...return appearance? Okay, imagine if, instead of that happening with your throat, it happened with your bathtubs and toilets. Yeah. You read that right. My bathtubs and toilets REGURGITATED. It was not pretty. I came home last night and, as I always do, walked back to my bedroom to divest myself of jewelry and change from my Junior Executive clothes. I saw something all over the back bathroom floor that I thought was the guts of some toy Sprocket had eviscerated, but when I came closer to investigate, the entire floor was awash. What I thought was toy stuffing was TP. Used, waterlogged TP. Need I elaborate about the liquid in which said TP was floating? I thought not.

Um. That's pretty much all I want to say about how I spent the last 24 hours. Except that it would have been horrifying enough for just your average normal person, but as those of you who know me personally will attest, I am anything BUT normal when it comes to cleanliness. I disinfect the litterbox BEFORE I give it to the cat. There was a Julia Roberts movie called "Sleeping With the Enemy" where she's married to this abuser who beats her if the towels hang unevenly or the cans aren't turned label-front or there's dirt...well, while I would never advocate domestic violence, I kinda saw his point. That's how nasty-clean I am. If you'd added in fusion jazz and a screaming toddler running through the muck and touching everything with muck-laden hands, you'd pretty much have my idea of Hell.

Things are going to be okay, though, because *STOCK TIP FOR MY BUDS* buy Clorox of Oakland, California. I spent $60 today on Clorox bleach, Clorox wipes, Clorox spray disinfectant and Clorox-version of Windex. And I even had some already on hand...but you can never be too careful when it comes to germs and as any true Southern woman will tell you, Clorox is the only way to ensure that your environs are really truly incontrovertibly germless. My entire house has been Cloroxed. Not just the bathroom floors, tubs and toilets, but everything in that vicinity, all that I touched or might have touched or passed close by or looked at during the cleaning process. I actually had to open a window (Ms. I've Got Allergies NEVER opens windows) because the Clorox fumes were choking me.

You might wonder why I'm typing so calmly. That's because I'm at Alan's, where the bathtubs drain and the toilets flush in the proper direction. I have disinfected myself head to toe, wiped with antibacterial wipes, bathed, washed my hair (twice) and isopropyl alcohold myself. I'm feeling almost normal. Well, as normal as I ever feel...as Cheryl says, "Normal is just a setting on my dryer."

MONTOYA DELENDA EST!!!

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