Just because I haven’t bragged (since November) about starting a high-chair tray-top on fire, turning my kids clothes into hand puppets or accidentally walking into the grocery store with a Hitleresque poop smear mustache on my face, doesn’t mean that I haven’t been in the shit.
I offer you Exhibit A.
In my never-ending crusade to keep at least one side of the sink open at all times, I knocked one of Ava’s juice cups into the disposal, with a ‘sucker’ sliding in behind it. I didn’t see it happen and once I had the sink clear, I gave the disposal switch a little bump.
Instead of the sweet sound of blades slicing through broccoli stumps and old spaghetti with ease, I heard something more along the tune of a lawnmower and a pile of rocks. I shut it down to investigate and to my surprise, this juice glass didn’t break. Instead, it somehow got jammed into the disposal sideways.
MAYBE it was because it was my last chore of the day.
MAYBE it was because I was exhausted to the core, from a 2 ½ year old and 9-month old beating me like a slave all day.
But MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, it was because I didn’t feel like spending three hours disassembling the garbage disposal to save a $5 juice glass, that I ended up here.
Somewhere between the corners of Zero Common Sense Ave. & Lazy St., I thrust a few bangs of my roofing hammer into the sink, obliterating the vestibule, making the pieces small enough to remove by hand.
As I type this blog with band-aids on the tips of 5 severed fingers, I think it’s safe to say that I’m not getting any ‘handyman reward blowjobs’ this weekend or taking home any trophies… but after reading this, maybe there’s hope for you yet.