Being Sprayed With Toilet Water = I’ll Be Home When I Damn Well Please

Here is the text I sent my husband at 4:40 pm today.

“I just got showered with toilet water and chased Penny around the table trying to get a ripped up newspaper from her. Alex finally fell asleep after crying for an hour. I had to guard the kitchen to keep everyone from getting another brownie before dinner. David and Cameron refuse to put away the garbage cans. That’s it. I’m done. I’m going to Starbucks when you get home and I don’t want to hear from anyone until 9:00 when I walk back through the door.

It’s now 9:03. I really wish I hadn’t self-imposed a time limit because it turns out Starbucks is now open past nine. Unfortunately I think David has science homework he needs my help with, that he could have done after school instead of holing up in his room, and not doing the chores I told him to do.

I think anytime one gets sprayed in the face with toilet water, curfews are off the table.

It’s not like it was used toilet water. There was a hose under the tank that came undone and was spraying around like a sprinkler after I flushed, which required removal of the lid and fending off the hose (What I needed was a shield, like Thor or something…does Thor have a shield?). But it was still water. From. The. Toilet. And it warranted a change of clothes. And mopping the floor with towels.

And earlier in the day Alex spit in my shoe. And tore up a dollar.

And I got sprayed with toilet water.

That is all.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012



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