deoderant go down the hole

Remember Tiny Toon Adventures? There was one episode where a Baby Plucky (the duck character) kept saying, "Water go down the hole." In "The Potty Years," Baby Plucky repeats the line over and over. The water did go down the hole until he clogged the toilet with everything he was trying to dump down it.



I had a Baby Plucky moment on New Year's Eve: I flushed my deodorant down the hole.

"You did what?!" and "How did you do that?!" were the two common responses from my friends.
My neighbors and long-time friends from across the hall were having a great party and so everyone was there to hear my embarrassing problem. Did I mention I'd had a couple to drink?

See, both of the bathrooms were occupied. And I really had to pee. (I was about to start sinning the Homestar Runner song: I really got, I really gotta pee pee, I really got, I really gotta pee!) My apartment is just across the hall, so I made a mad dash for my own commode. I did my business, pushed the little lever, and washed my hands (Mom would be so proud!). As I made a grab for the towel, my arm brushed over my deodorant stick and PLOP it dropped into the swirling water.

My response: No way! I didn't just do that. I stare at it. That won't fit down the hole—will it? GLUP. The toilet swallows my deodorant. Shit! (I wish it had been at this point.)

The next day I got to call my apartment manager. "Uh, hi, um this isn't an emergency, but it is kinda important. See, I kinda accidentally flushed my deodorant down the toilet, and I think it's probably stuck in the pipes." I then proceeded to give her a physical description of the flushed item, and she said Dustin would be around to look at it on Monday.

I came home from work on Monday to a note: "Don't touch caulk for 24 hours." Dustin, our maintenance guy, had to completely remove the toilet to fix my flushing error. I wonder if I'd be less embarrassed if Dustin was less cute?

Mommy made it all okay. "Don't worry about it," she said. "When dad and I were at that hotel in Tulsa last month, I flushed a washcloth by accident."

Like mother, like daughter?

wilt

My Angel Petite Fittonia hangs limp over the edge of its pot. I don't think it will recover from my week of inattention. The cuttings I took from it a month or so ago look to be in good form though, so perhaps I'll be able to repopulate it.

That plant requires too much from me. I water it. I even spritz it with water from a spray bottle. I leave my cubicle for the weekend and return to find the plant deflated, leaves hanging. My other cubilce plants can be left alone for days and still hold themselves together. Okay, a week away from work was a bit long, but did it have to just give up and die like that?

ice and down comforters

I slept well last night in my warm little cocoon, my feather bed cradling me, my two down comforters protecting me from the cold. Outside the ice built up on the tree limbs and created a thick plating that covered my car.
I woke at 7 a.m. and called my voicemail at work. I had a message from my boss. Yay! She's going to say the weather's bad; don't come to work today. My smile faded. "Take your time, but work starts at 9," she said.
I pulled on the handle to my car door. Nothing. Frozen shut. I tried the other three—nothing. I chipped and scraped but it wouldn't budge. On to Plan B.
I poured a cup full of water along the edge of the door. The car finally relented and opened to me. Defrost on. Heater on.
I began scraping a half an hour later. Easy, quick work, though I forgot my side mirrors.

and so it begins

Got to work 10 minutes late. Just checked my e-mail. Only 421 messages to sift through before I can start doing real work.
Happy New Year!

purposeful purposelessness

I'm at work. Yes, I'm on vacation this week. Don't worry; I'm not working. I'm just using the Internet access.

I stopped by today to take a co-worker out to lunch. She's the only editor on my magazine working this week. If it were me, I'd be close to certifiable. It's so quite in the office. Almost everyone's gone.

And one of my plants is about to wilt into non-life. Sigh. I give it another spritz with water before I go.

All this time away from work has been disorienting for me. Life without a computer. (I have 150 work-related e-mails wating for me.) Life without an inbox. Life without deadlines. It almost feels like a life without purpose. And I'm okay with having a purposeless life for another four days.

a day with mom

I'm at home today, my parents' home, spending the day helping my mom go through her closet. She's run off to the store, leaving me to type. Chester, the big grey cat, is sleeping in my lap with his cold wet nose pressed against my forearm, making typing a bit of an ordeal.

My mom has been on this organization kick, which means that every time I visit this feels less like home. The silverware is kept in an entirely different drawer, and my bedroom is no longer even mine. I know that I've only spent about seven-months' worth of time in this house in the last five years, but I'm not quite ready to let that idea of "home" go.

My right foot is about to fall asleep. It has that cold tingle. But to move it would disturb the cat. I'm going to chance it. Darn. The cat's now up and sitting in front of the monitor. Ah well.

warmth in a cold front

My ex-roomie came into town for the holidays, and she brought her cold Minneapolis weather with her. But she's leaving today, and warmer weather will return.

That's not to say her visit wasn't pleasant. I got to spend a lovely day with her and her nephew. I miss her spunk and her ability to talk me into doing wild and crazy things.

gmail, gmail, get your gmail here

The friendly folks at Google saw fit to give me a handful of invites for Gmail accounts. Let me know if you're interested.

scratches and markings

I'm in that lull of editing. I just ran my pen through an article. My scribbled writing, corrections, and notations fill the pages with color. It looks so scattered. Next, I begin typing all of that seeming nonsense. I’m always amazed what my crazy thoughts look like when transferred to the computer. Somehow a thoughtful, complete, organized story emerges. It’s just the coolest thing—or maybe I’m just high off of the ink fumes.

news bites

Book Update: Author JK Rowling has said that the next Harry Potter novel, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince will be published on 16 July next year. (Source: BBC News)
COMMENTARY: It's about freakin' time!

Web poll: What factor more often leads to getting ahead at a company? 44% said "connections"—in other words, family ties and other close relationships. (Source: Inc. Magazine)
COMMENTARY: Duh.

Single's Ad: SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips,cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Call (404) 875-6420 and ask for Daisy, I'll be waiting... (Source: The Alanta Journal)
COMMENTARY: Apparently, more than 15,000 men found themselves talking to the Atlanta Humane Society about an 8-week-old black Labrador retriever.