In The Same Vein...

...as GB, you can't sweat the small stuff. But that doesn't mean your ass doesn't dummy up every so often. Mine did the other night.

A few years back I broke a glass in the dishwasher. Now, stay with me here. As I've said, I live in a rat hole. This appliance is 17 1/2" wide. You can fit about two sippy cups, a plate and a baby medicine dispenser in it. Anything other than that and you're asking for trouble. I thought I had retrieved all the broken glass out of the bottom, but, as usually happens, since nothing ever good happens to me, I must have missed a piece. So when I ran it the glass shard must have gotten in one of the lines and cut a hole in it. So for the past few years I've placed a towel under the corner where it leaks. No biggy. Sometimes it leaks, sometimes not. Never have understood that one. I could call maintenance to get it fixed, but it doesn't bother me and it doesn't make a mess, so I figure I have better things to worry about.

The other night I was cleaning up some dishes and putting them in said appliance. As you know, the disposal is linked into the drain for the dishwasher, so you always want to run the disposal before you run the dishwasher. I brain farted this particular night. I put all the dishes in and started it. Then I looked at the big cup I keep on the sink that I place my plate scubber in. It leaks soap into the bottom and I periodically wash it out, but it IS sudsy when I do so. And I also forgot to run the disposal. Did I stop the appliance before I finished these chores? Of course not. Did it ever dawn on me to do so? Nope. So I proceeded to wash out the cup, which takes several minutes, all the time with the water running in the disposal side of the sink, merrily contemplating whether God really did create women.

When I was done I got another liter glass of wine and settled in to read some blogs and look at some titties news. After about forty minutes I felt a bellowing in my bowels and since I never know what's going to happen when I feel the need to part my asshole, I figured I should meander my way to the throne. When I passed the kitchen, which is a mear 38" x 12', what I saw was a sea of suds that had encompassed the entire area. I immediately called general quarters. DAMN. It looked just like the picture, but there was no nekkid lady with her head peering out from it wanting to wash my foreskin.

I hate fucking up. But it is what it is. An hour later, after a trip to the hardware store to get some surfactant and a spray bottle, all was well. I'm just sorry this woman wasn't in the suds. What? It's Alzheimers and AADD. I'm being rendered incapacitaded here. Really. That box wine is good for you. Resveratol and stuff.