Wednesday, October 27, 2010

When Underwear Talk, You Better Listen.


So, we get home last night after a fantastic evening at Sesame Street Live and we were rushing around trying to get the kids ready for bed and what not, you know, the whole bedtime routine. While straightening up, I went to toss Hailey, my gigantic cat, off of my blanket that was still on the couch after a failed nap attempt that afternoon when Elyse did nothing but play around and scream for me for the entire nap period. When I managed to pry the gigantic lump of fur off of the couch I realized that she must have had a dirty butt… AGAIN, and had gotten poo on my blanket. Thanks Hailey. That’s awesome.

So I grabbed my blanket and ran downstairs to put it into the wash. I set the washer to accommodate a large load, as in an entire washing machine full of water, tossed in the detergent and poopy blanket, and went on to feed the cats and scoop their litter box.

Wow, I just realized how many times poop is mentioned in this story.

Anyway, after the kitty poop scooping, I went over to the sink to wash my hands. I just happened to take note of Aaron’s poopy underwear from an accident the night before that was on the edge of the sink, had been rinsed, and was waiting to go into a scalding hot, disinfecting, antimicrobial whirl in the washing machine. I don’t know why I noticed them, but they seemed to stand up and say, “Hey, Look at me. I am a potential disaster waiting to happen. Look at me…look at me…look at me!” And I looked at them and decided I would get right on it in the morning. Why didn’t I just throw them in with the blanket that was being sanitized? I’m not really sure.

Now I suppose that I should explain something a little clearer here. A while ago, Mike was working on a draining project with the washing machine. Something wasn’t quite right with a ratchet, or thing-a-ma-gig, or a who’s it what’s it, and to buy him some time, he put the pipe that drains the washing machine into the neighboring sink.

You know where this is going, right?

So I bid adieu to the talking underwear and went back upstairs to work on brushing teeth and getting everyone to bed. It’s almost ten o’clock. All the while, I am listening to hear if the washing machine had stopped so that I could get my blanket into the dryer and hopefully have it before Mike and I went to bed.

While Mike and I were going through the painfully long routine of getting Elyse to bed, I heard the machine stop. So when we finally got out of her room, I went downstairs to toss my blanket into the dryer…BUT…before I could get to the dryer I walked down the steps and into about an inch of water that was covering the basement floor about as far as the eye could see. I stood there in horror for what seemed like an eternity confused about when we put in an indoor swimming pool and completely panicked over what to do about it.

Apparently, some time during the wash cycle, the underwear fell into the sink and plugged the drain causing all of the water from both the wash AND rinse cycle to spill all over the floor.

I ran upstairs and told Mike that we had a problem. Now I have to say that Mike is amazing in these times of panic. I was ready to sit in the shallow end and sob, but Mike just accessed the situation and started trying to fix it. I snapped out of it and tried to pitch in. I was using blankets and towels and whatever absorbent thing that I could find to wrangle the water and push it in Mike’s direction where he was furiously working with a shop vac.

Eventually, we managed to bail ourselves out, but not before I realized that the water had gotten under the door to the family room and there was a gigantic puddle in there too. The cats were huddled on the play mats like it was a piece of drift wood and Hailey was telling Bella, “I’ll never let go, Bella. I’ll never let go.”

So this morning our dehumidifier is getting its ass kicked and working some major overtime while I try to not only catch up on the regular laundry that is piled sky high, but also all of the stuff that either got wet last night or was used to sop up the water. Where’s a Sham Wow when you really need one? You can bet though that before I even look at the washing machine, I am going to take a look at the sink first. And if there happens to be a pair of talking underwear hanging over the edge begging to be acknowledged, I will definitely listen to what it has to say this time.