Well, it's not actually a sad story in the true sense of the word "sad"...it's just a story about the sad/ridiculous state of the inner workings of my mind.
OK...
So,
Once upon a time(about 30 minutes ago), I walked into the door after bringing The Boy to his hearing test.
(Don't worry, it's mostly good. His range is a sort of low normal... He'll have his ears rechecked in two years to see if it's getting worse. This means that HE SHOULD PROBABLY NOT LISTEN TO HIS HEADPHONES AT FULL TILT ANYMORE!!!...DID YOU HEAR THAT, YOUNG MAN??!!)
So, I walked into the door and noticed for the several dozenth time that the holding tank in the Little Green Machine carpet cleaner that's sitting just inside the living room really needs to be emptied out and cleaned. What with having two dogs, the occasional visiting dog, a cat and two kids who leave lunch bags full of half-eaten food and half-full cups o' hot chocolate sitting around, well within grabbing range of a food-obsessed Terrier...our sandy coloured carpet takes a bit of a beating. Our little handy-dandy carpet-cleaner comes in handy-dandy often enough that it's always in ready position in order to deal with the inevitable barfs, pees, scattered lunches and splattered hot chocolates.
This is what it looks like:
I am quite embarrassed to admit that we don't always empty it after it has been called into action, sucking up the various repugnant substances and sometimes this mucky mixture just sits around .... quietly fermenting... thus multiplying its repugnance.
The only reason I'm admitting this gross housekeeping faux pas is that this sad story can't be told properly and to its full effect without that very admission of atrociousness.
So, I walked in and noticed the gross Little Green Machine and thought to myself,
"Self, that is really f&*king gross. Someone should really do something about that."
And then proceeded to sit my sorry arse down on the stool in front of the computer in order to write my Country Tune of the Week post which I neglected to do this Saturday night because I was sick as a bastard...but don't worry, I am feeling not so sick anymore and I will write it as soon as I am done this story.
Not long after I sat my sorry arse down, leaving the Little Green Machine to further putrefy, I looked out the window and noticed that our tenant had pulled into the driveway, and I said to myself,
"Oh shit, Self. Ralph's home and he's bringing the garbage and recycle bins in from the end of the driveway which he does every week and has told My Guy that he kinda considers it his contribution so we should just leave it for him to do, which I do but I always feel weirdly guilty about not doing it especially if I am home before he is on Garbage Day. Damn it. I'm gonna make myself scarce, Self, so that as he walks past the window he doesn't see me sitting on my sorry arse while he is bringing in the garbage stuff. Also, I don't really feel like risking an exchange of pleasantries through the window. QUICK!! HIDE!!"
So, I slip away from the kitchen window and scurry into the living room and spy the hellishly half-full Little Green Machine of Disgustingness and think to myself,
"Hey Self, this is a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone...Avoid making any sort of contact with our very nice tenant AND clean up the revolting concoction that has been steeping away in that carpet cleaner thingy"
I cheerfully leaned down to remove the holding tank of disgustingness and made my way down the hall to the bathroom in order to finally dump its contents down the toilet.
I'm not entirely sure of exactly what happened next but I ended up juggling the tank as it flew out of my one hand, spewing liquid horror into the air and onto the wall and onto the floor. I, somehow, managed to catch it mid-air with my other hand and then, in an effort to stop any further spillage, I turned it upside down....
...dumping, through the big hole on the TOP of the tank, the rest of the noxious stew on the wall and on the floor.
Needless to say, many swears were uttered.
FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!
Now, the floor in the hallway is ceramic tile so clean-up was not as terrifyingly ironic as it would've been if it had've landed on the carpet. The problem is that we live in a log home and, consequently, our walls are log and, of course, log is wood.... unfinished and therefore porous, absorbant, easily stained ....wood.
Goddamn.
I've mopped up... and disinfected and deodorized ... the floor and sprayed the walls, in an even and hopefully not readily discernable pattern, with NOK-OUT which supposedly eliminates any and all 'environmental contaminants".
Here's hopin'.
In conclusion, the truly sad part about this story is this:
Had I:
1) emptied and cleaned the stupid machine after each use like normal non-disgusting people do
OR...
Failing that...
B) managed to manage my freakishly anti-social tendencies and bizarrely bizarre, not to mention, unnecessary and misplaced feelings of guilt
...this horrifying experience needn't have ever taken place.
The moral of this story, as you can plainly see, is...
Don't be gross.
The End.
p.s. The other moral is to actually say "Hi!' to people you know....and to NOT scurry away and hide in your living room.
