Bathroom blunder, part 2 (or should that be number 2...)
I am never going to live this down. The puns. Mom is pulling out all the stops with the puns. Granted, she's pissed that she was not treated well during the situation. Frankly, I'm pissed that my mother is consistently and continually unhelpful in virtually any sort of crisis. But it is what it is and I can't change that we have stains on our ceiling.
Yep, the water appears to have stopped dripping finally, as the main stain did not appear to grow between when I had breakfast and when I had dinner. It's like a foot or two long and in the middle of the room, between the kitchen table and the half wall. Closer to the back wall are two smaller stains that quickly stopped growing. Dad is considering replacing my toilet entirely, which upsets me because our house was built in 1991. Basically this time in 1992, low-flow toilets became the standard. I hate low-flow toilets. It's like the one thing President Ignoramus and I agree on. (By the way, 16 more days...as we've spent the past two days listening to his recorded phone conversation with the Georgia Secretary of State where he asks the SOS to, you know, find 11K more votes to put him over the top. Because that's a thing you do when votes have already been certified in your opponent's favor.)
I also expressed my displeasure at our plunger; turns out mom hates it too, and was like, if we all hate it, why do we keep using it? Dad went, I think it's fine. Yeah, and I totally saw you having issues with it when you went to use it the first time.
As for how I'm doing: Turns out my wrist must be okay. I went to work without a brace and I had no issues, though I was being careful with it. Today wasn't a very strenuous day so it wasn't hard, though because we had frozen fog in the morning, I went out through the garage; I could tell there was something on the pavement, plus I did have to clean my car off, so I wasn't taking any chances. I wore a total of three braces to bed last night--wrist, knee, and ankle. My foot is a bit tweaky today, and honestly my left side is out of sorts, but it's nothing I can't deal with. What really hurts more is actually my abdomen, since I was trying to use my body weight on the stupid plunger to get it to plunge. I even have a bruise above my belly button, close to the bottom of my rib cage, plus a few places are just sore. Again, this is why I need a different plunger.
With everything going on, I didn't mention yesterday's food. Mom's still trying to get rid of the milk, especially since today's the best-by date. She made more hot chocolate yesterday, though it was when I wasn't feeling well so I didn't have any. It also jacked me up pretty good last time and I didn't want to be all sugared up, though the whipped cream and marshmallows probably played a role in that. Dad also planned to make chili for dinner, and I was going to make cornbread rolls, but that didn't happen. Dad had been cooking at the onset of things, and I think dinner was ready shortly after the first sign of trouble, but I ultimately didn't eat, figuring chili probably wasn't the best choice for me given what all had happened. With a fair amount of chili left over, dad made chili mac for tonight's meal in place of regular pasta. Mom reheated the hot chocolate and also made the cornbread rolls, though she didn't realize the package only had six and had set up the muffin tin for a full dozen, so she cut the rolls in half and made twelve. We had a lot of food tonight.
At least we did have a good laugh. I think it started when my mom saw something dad had, I don't know, posted on Facebook or something. It was a song lyric--oh, "Devil Went Down to Georgia." Mom had been asking if dad wrote that. Uh, it's the Charlie Daniels Band. Then dad started singing something and my mom went, oh, that's the theme to the Partridge Family! I started laughing because that wasn't it. She then went, the Brady Bunch? Nope. Dad had to go, it's the Beverly Hillbillies! Around that time we'd also been talking about the Super Bowl Blizzard, in part because YC moved this weekend, in the middle of all the crappy weather, and I'd said, at least you didn't have to move your one-legged grandfather in the middle of a blizzard! This then caused mom to make up her own song:
Mom: Now this is a story 'bout a man named [Papa]
Mom: Who had one leg--
Me: And a son named [Papa]
Mom: He told the rehab place that he had to go
Me: So he got an ambulance to get him through the snow
(I'm not so sure what mom said at the beginning of the "he had to go" line, but my parents were thoroughly amused at my final line. See? This is where my English major comes in handy. Also, we used my grandfather's and uncle's nicknames for the name portion; I just didn't want to put them here.)
Yep, the water appears to have stopped dripping finally, as the main stain did not appear to grow between when I had breakfast and when I had dinner. It's like a foot or two long and in the middle of the room, between the kitchen table and the half wall. Closer to the back wall are two smaller stains that quickly stopped growing. Dad is considering replacing my toilet entirely, which upsets me because our house was built in 1991. Basically this time in 1992, low-flow toilets became the standard. I hate low-flow toilets. It's like the one thing President Ignoramus and I agree on. (By the way, 16 more days...as we've spent the past two days listening to his recorded phone conversation with the Georgia Secretary of State where he asks the SOS to, you know, find 11K more votes to put him over the top. Because that's a thing you do when votes have already been certified in your opponent's favor.)
I also expressed my displeasure at our plunger; turns out mom hates it too, and was like, if we all hate it, why do we keep using it? Dad went, I think it's fine. Yeah, and I totally saw you having issues with it when you went to use it the first time.
As for how I'm doing: Turns out my wrist must be okay. I went to work without a brace and I had no issues, though I was being careful with it. Today wasn't a very strenuous day so it wasn't hard, though because we had frozen fog in the morning, I went out through the garage; I could tell there was something on the pavement, plus I did have to clean my car off, so I wasn't taking any chances. I wore a total of three braces to bed last night--wrist, knee, and ankle. My foot is a bit tweaky today, and honestly my left side is out of sorts, but it's nothing I can't deal with. What really hurts more is actually my abdomen, since I was trying to use my body weight on the stupid plunger to get it to plunge. I even have a bruise above my belly button, close to the bottom of my rib cage, plus a few places are just sore. Again, this is why I need a different plunger.
With everything going on, I didn't mention yesterday's food. Mom's still trying to get rid of the milk, especially since today's the best-by date. She made more hot chocolate yesterday, though it was when I wasn't feeling well so I didn't have any. It also jacked me up pretty good last time and I didn't want to be all sugared up, though the whipped cream and marshmallows probably played a role in that. Dad also planned to make chili for dinner, and I was going to make cornbread rolls, but that didn't happen. Dad had been cooking at the onset of things, and I think dinner was ready shortly after the first sign of trouble, but I ultimately didn't eat, figuring chili probably wasn't the best choice for me given what all had happened. With a fair amount of chili left over, dad made chili mac for tonight's meal in place of regular pasta. Mom reheated the hot chocolate and also made the cornbread rolls, though she didn't realize the package only had six and had set up the muffin tin for a full dozen, so she cut the rolls in half and made twelve. We had a lot of food tonight.
At least we did have a good laugh. I think it started when my mom saw something dad had, I don't know, posted on Facebook or something. It was a song lyric--oh, "Devil Went Down to Georgia." Mom had been asking if dad wrote that. Uh, it's the Charlie Daniels Band. Then dad started singing something and my mom went, oh, that's the theme to the Partridge Family! I started laughing because that wasn't it. She then went, the Brady Bunch? Nope. Dad had to go, it's the Beverly Hillbillies! Around that time we'd also been talking about the Super Bowl Blizzard, in part because YC moved this weekend, in the middle of all the crappy weather, and I'd said, at least you didn't have to move your one-legged grandfather in the middle of a blizzard! This then caused mom to make up her own song:
Mom: Now this is a story 'bout a man named [Papa]
Mom: Who had one leg--
Me: And a son named [Papa]
Mom: He told the rehab place that he had to go
Me: So he got an ambulance to get him through the snow
(I'm not so sure what mom said at the beginning of the "he had to go" line, but my parents were thoroughly amused at my final line. See? This is where my English major comes in handy. Also, we used my grandfather's and uncle's nicknames for the name portion; I just didn't want to put them here.)