If your house is really a mess and a stranger comes to the door, greet him with "Who could have done this? We have no enemies." ~ Phyllis Diller
Most of yesterday was a really, really good day. It was my last day at my job, so my co-workers were especially nice to me. They brought me in cake, took me out to lunch and generally made a fuss over me. I like it when people make a fuss over me and bring me complex carbohydrates and don't expect me to work much.
Afterward I went to a mall and met a friend for a smoothie. By the time I got home, I was feeling good.
I was feeling happy.
I was still basking in the newness of having my own place, decorated how I liked it.
I was feeling independent, smart, and dare I say it - slightly glamorous.
Then when I walked into my house, I went to drop off some bathroom products I had bought. I was thinking how happy I was that I found the perfect shower curtain to go in my bathroom. I was making a mental list of the products I was going to buy at Bath & Body when I got my next paycheck.
Then I got to the open door of the bathroom and dropped my bags, speechless.
Three pieces of poop were on my shower floor.
Oh for the love of all that is pure and holy... what is going on???
Seeing turds out of their natural habitat (say, a toilet bowl) is akin to seeing a zebra on its hind legs, pushing a grocery cart down an aisle. You recognize it, your brain tells you its a zebra, but at the same time you are wondering, "Now why in god's name am I seeing this? Here?"
The last couple days when I had taken a shower in that bathroom I had noticed that the drain was starting to back up, and it was taking longer for the water to go down the drain. It is technically a handicapped bathroom, so the shower is level with the rest of the floor, just dipped in the middle so the water stays in its little stall. Where it's supposed to. I figured it might be clogged with hair or something, so I just planned on checking it over the weekend when I had more time.
I certainly didn't expect to waltz in my bathroom and see poop lying on the shower floor, with black sludge and remnants of toilet paper strewn about. I couldn't even comprehend what I was seeing; what did it mean?
Did the poop back up from the pipes and come out the shower drain?
Did one of the kids overflow the toilet and just run away when things got out of control?
Where did the black sludge come from?
For god's sake, I just learned to use a stud finder this last weekend - I was light years away from understanding the intricacies of plumbing.
But what I did understand was that I couldn't ignore it.
The poop needed to be dealt with. And fast.
And there's nothing glamorous about dealing with poop. Especially mysterious poop. As a mom of 4, I have cleaned up more areas of crap off my body than one would think possible.
I have cleaned it out of my hair.
Scrubbed it off my jeans.
Wiped it off my arms, and scrubbed it out of my fingernails.
I have gone an entire day, occasionally getting a whiff of something that smells like a diaper, and driving myself crazy thinking, "Where is that smell coming from?" It's a mother's aroma of reality.
But back to the present. Time to get shit done. I bagged up the runaway poop and got to work.
I stripped down the new glamorous shower curtain and liner and threw them in the wash. I took every towel and rug and threw them in the wash as well. Twice. I used a year's worth of cleaning products and scrubbed every damn inch of that shower. I scoured the grout in the stall and covered it in so much Mr Bubble that it looked like I was in a vertical foam coffin. I tested the toilet and nothing overflowed, but I scrubbed it clean again anyway.
When I was finally finished, I collapsed on the couch so I could watch 'Scandal.'
Hmmph, I told myself. Kerry Washington looks pretty glamorous. I bet her character never has to wrangle in some errant poop.
This morning I was taking my two youngest to school and began my investigation.
"Hey," I mentioned casually. "Did any of you happen to see the mess in the downstairs bathroom yesterday after school?"
"Oh my gosh, Mom!" Chloe said, turning to me. "I didn't know what that was! I couldn't figure it out. I brought Tanner over so he could see our new house and then I wanted to show him the bathroom and I opened the door and there was all this poop on the floor and I didn't know what to say so I just shut the door."
"Wait," I said, starting to grasp the situation. "You brought a friend over and he saw that?"
Great. Now we had witnesses to our poop shame.
But whatever...nothing we can do about it now. I just know I don't want surprises like that again. Just as I would prefer to see a zebra in the great outdoors, I don't want to see turds unless they're safely contained. And no rubber gloves or heavy industrial cleaning supplies are needed.
Is that so much to ask?
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