I like Murphy’s Law. It almost always applies to me.
After spending a decent amount of time mopping my kitchen floor yesterday, I woke up to spilled creamer all over the kitchen floor. Some helpful person in my household stuck one piece of paper towel near the end of the spill to staunch the flow. It didn’t really work. It was the thought, I guess, that counted. I thought I smelled something kind of vanilla-y. I know it was sticky because I stepped in it. With my whole foot.
This pool of creamer, which as it turns out was more than half of a large bottle of french vanilla creamer, began at the fridge, meandered under the kitchen table, and ran into the tile grout in what can only be described as a “splat” formation. And no one thought to alert me to this. Unless they thought that the one square of paper towel would act as an early warning system. It wasn’t really that well thought out. It’s a miracle that I didn’t go ass over teakettle in the middle of my kitchen floor before I had even had a chance to have my morning coffee. Luckily I wasn’t wearing nylon socks.
These same people in question wake me up for everything. Everything. Not that long ago my teenager actually woke me up to ask me what day it was. Seriously. My husband will wake me prior to leaving for work to inform me that it is raining outside. Not kidding. They normally cannot stand to see me engaged in sleeping. Today, however, when there was something that needed telling they chose, instead, to let me sleep. Remind me to thank them for that.
After perfunctorily moving the mop around and soaking up most of the liquid, I was able to get to the fridge. The now quarter of a bottle of creamer that I had opened just yesterday was teetering on top of a container of lettuce mix on the middle shelf (definitely not where I left it yesterday). The outside of the bottle was still covered with what had formerly been inside the bottle. Another sticky mess. Yay!
I cannot wait to question the culprits later today. It will be an exercise in futility, but I will do it anyway. Even though I already know how it will turn out. No one will cop to it. So, I will be forced to blame the elves once again. Those elves sure do get into things. Aren’t they supposed to making toys this time of year? If they’re bored, I wish they would quit making mischief and clean something up around this joint. Or at least make me some new shoes. I saw a nice pair of Jimmy Choo’s at the mall the other day. I think it’s the least they could do.