GTI

No excuses for yesterday other than this week is kicking my keister. Who allowed it to be only Tuesday?!

Today I finally, finally did my laundry. I was almost out the door when I turned back inside: “Wait! I’ll do the towels!”

Sarah and I use a lot of microfiber and regular-fiber dish towels to clean up around the kitchen, bedrooms… well, everywhere.

“I just did them pretty recently I’m not sure how many there are!”

“A lot.” I said. “Did you forget about the Great Tea Incident?”

She had, in fact, forgotten about the Great Tea Incident. And then I realized that I had forgotten to blog about the Great Tea Incident.

Without further ado:

I’m already set up at my laptop, pinging, tweaking, placing away, as Sarah gets ready to leave for the office.

Her coat is on. Her bag is packed. “Oh! Earrings!” she says, and turns back to her bedroom to find her little hoops.

And that’s when it happens.

She must turn around in just the wrong way, and - BOOM.

“No.” she whispers.

“What was that.” I whisper back.

“I can’t speak right now.”

I get up from my computer and go into her room.

Sarah’s entire yeti full of steaming hot black tea is lying on the ground. Empty.

Black tea pools all over her dresser. It drips down the sides, puddling in the drawer hinges. It has made its way to the baseboards. Down the mirror. Under the rug, which I quickly lift up.

“Okay! Towels!”

She holds up the rug and I rush to get a pile of them. When I get back, she’s somehow shedded her parka.

We mop and we mop. Lap and lap. How did one Yeti possibly hold so much liquid, I wonder.

15 minutes later, birthday cards are thrown away, a couple pieces of art are lovingly laid out on towels to dry, and the floor is very, very clean. And a LOT of towels are dirty.

The Great Tea Incident.