My stupid evening...
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| Tue, 03-09-2004 - 11:22pm |
Then I got into the kitchen. The kitchen is not really my best arena. First of all, I am a decent cook and an excellent baker. However, Bacon is like Kryptonite to me. I can not cook a pan of bacon without either: A. setting something on fire or B. filling at least one quarter of the house with smoke. Sometimes it's both, but usually not. After our house caught on fire in MI (that WAS NOT my fault- it was a wiring issue and I wasn't home at the time, I swear) the fire marshall mentioned that smoke can create cobwebs. So the vicious ensuing cycle is that my husband loves bacon, I burn bacon, the house fills with smoke, and the smoke makes cobwebs, especially in the kitchen. Normally, I don't care. But TODAY I decided I HAD to clean the kitchen! I wondered at the sanity of this decision when after much trash talking to myself I climbed from my chair onto the counter to stand there to clean the ceiling. It's approximately 4 cm wide (maybe a foot, who's counting?) and I have size 12 feet. Not a good match. I had to dust first, so I set about doing that, inching my way along the counter to get every surface. Then came the mopping. All the while I was praying to just about everything including the mop that I not fall. I had grand visions of using the mop as a javelin to spring myself to safety in the event of a tumble, but knew that it would most likely snap and impale me if I tried. Better not to fall.....After a lot of stilted steps, swearing under my breath and mild lamaze breathing I finished with the mop and there was only one chore left! The ceiling fan. For this feat I had to turn around, still standing on the counter. Which meant I had nothing to hold onto with my acrophobic death grip. Aw nuts! I had the kids pass me a bottle of cleaner and a sponge and began singing the playing song so that I could take my mind off my potential demise. I instructed Ramey to call 911 if I fell. He went to get the cordless, muttering something about "I bet the cops laugh at you". Smart aleck kid.
I had all but one blade finished when my dear, sweet, angelic son offered to turn off the light so I could wash the light fixture. I said sure. He flipped the switch, and turned on the ()&()*^(^% ceiling fan! Have I mentioned my recurring nightmare of having my head chopped off by a ceiling fan? I wasn't exactly happy as I screamed TURN IT OFF OH MY GOD TURN IT OFF RIGHT NOW OH MY GOD. My ever-so-helpful children collapsed in a useless puddle of laughter on the floor while I made sure I hadn't wet my pants or actually fallen, died, and floated out of my body to the top of the room. I was pseudo hyperventilating and decided at that point that I didn't care if the kitchen looked like a rock star's hotel room- I was getting down off of the counter, sitting down on the floor, and not moving for approximately 40 days and 40 nights. I know that time frame is generally reserved for religious experiences, but I think this qualifies.
I am not exactly sure WHY God decided to make me a short person, but I personally feel that it was because, as a prescient being, He knew that I would be maybe a little afraid of heights. Or, if I am going to be honest, perhaps He knew that I would be so completely terrified of heights that to make my head too far from said ground would shorten my life span....whichever. Anyway....when I looked down, (oh they always tell me not to do that and somehow it always happens!) the ground zoomed away from me and I felt so suddenly immobilized with fear that I couldn't even begin to TRY to get off the counter. I stood there for 25 minutes with my kids trying to coax me down before, with tears in my eyes and fear in my heart, I decided I had to get down before it was time to get Rob. First of all, if he had to walk home he'd be mad. Second, if he had to walk home because I was standing on the counter I'd NEVER EVER EVER hear the end of it. I took a deep breath and began to descend. I thought I was homefree when I suddenly lost my precarious balance and fell head first onto the chair, then off of the chair and onto the floor. "I'm calling 911!" yelled my son as I realized I wasn't dead and had to stop him. I got up fairly fast, snatched the phone and glared at him. "I'm FINE!" I said. He smirked at me, and in an even voice, said "Yeah, but I wanted to tell them what you did!" Smart aleck kid.
So I am a little bruised, but the darn kitchen is clean and I survived the evening. Rob's going to wash the dining room ceiling tomorrow because if he doesn't I am filing for divorce on Thursday.
Hope your evenings were MUCH better than mine!

Serena
Sara
You could have held on with one hand as the fan went around and dusted the rest of the kitchen as well.
I'm sure it would have cut down on time.
ROFL
Be glad that most of the time you have two feet firmly planted on the floor.
~Dana
~~Linda
~~Linda
Kerry
ROFLMAO!!!