Thursday, August 18, 2011
Not Waving. Drowning.
"Go ahead; unplug the blender." When you hear yourself utter those words, you know things have run amuck in Margaritaville. But what do you say to the man wheeling the giant fan and even bigger dehumidifier into your kitchen when it's almost 10:00 p.m. and you're still finishing dinner? All I could think of was my morning espresso--and when he made a move for the coffee maker, I panicked. So the blender is unplugged, the kitchen nearly impassable, and my kitchen sink with the plastic hose poked down its drain looks like a patient that's been intubated. But it's nice they brought a red dehumidifier, don't you think?
Last night water launched its latest attack through my washing machine. Exiting my bathroom, I found myself standing in a pool of water as more water cascaded out of the washer. Several throw rugs and a pile of towels later, in a brief hiatus from swearing, I heard the burble and splash of the little waterfall that had found its way through the laundry room floor to my kitchen ceiling.
Have you ever slept in a wind tunnel?
Really, I was so tired by the time I closed my eyes last night the noise from the upstairs dehumidifier (which really should be orange, don't you think?) and fan outside my bedroom didn't keep me awake. But I awoke with my heart pounding and raced downstairs certain that the dishwasher had flooded the downstairs while I slept. (The refrigerator attempted this trick the morning of my last trip to Baltimore and had to be repaired while I was away.) But all was well on the first floor-- or well enough for the man who loves me and me to make our breakfast and take it outside to the patio without being drowned by the sprinklers or strangled by the garden hose.
And I was going to write about tomatoes.
Or about how I think my grevalia tree might actually be god.
Or dispense divorce advice. Check back next Thursday for "It's Turdsday! Shit I've Learned About Divorce!"