Where were you…

when the toilet exploded?
I was sitting in the kitchen.
Mr. Smith was upstairs working. 
Famous Baby C was sleeping (and miraculously was not jolted awake by the shocking force/noise of the explosion)
Grand Master H was downstairs with me.
Grammy was in her room.
It was quite loud and shocking, to say the least. As it turns out, explosions that occur in the house are loud and shocking.
I could hear water spraying as I ran upstairs to investigate. The next thing I heard was Mr. Smith yelling, “What the eff? How do you turn the water off when the tank is smashed?”
I could not imagine what he was talking about.
And then I stepped into the bathroom and beheld the horror.

See, in Southern California, you have this little contraption that is supposed to increase the pressure in the toilet tank so that you don’t need as much water each time the toilet is flushed to, you know, get the job done.
That all sounds like an awesome idea seeing as how water is a constant problem when you essentially live in reclaimed desert.
That term always has struck me funny. Reclaimed from what? Being a desert? Really? Yeah, because that doesn’t really ultimately work does it?
Nope.
Because stuff like this happens.
Things around here have kind of been like this lately.
Clients aren’t paying their bills.
Tempers are short.
Things are volatile.
My back is still not right, but I am finally (after heavy negotiations) seeing the error of 
my stubborn ways and pursuing a medical solution. This isn’t going to get better without intervention.
To that end, I went to see Dr. DreamBoat. Even Mr. Smith would like to date him.
In other news, I know I haven’t been around here lately. 
I am not sure why.
I have just not been feeling it lately. The back thing, the kid thing, the always having to beat money out of clients thing, also feeling kind of down and overwhelmed thing has kept me from writing anything.
Having a toilet explode made me want to write again.
Hmmm…

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3 thoughts on “Where were you…

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