Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th started a little early for me this year.  It's basically been a whole week of mayhem.  You know how bad things tend to happen in 3's?  Well, I'm over that limit and still going strong.

1.  I got sick last Tuesday and am still sniffling.  I went through approximately 5 Gatorade's and 2 boxes of Kleenex per day for the first few days, spent half of my vacation in bed, flew with a sinus infection (which, I'm pretty sure is on of the seven circles of Hell), and still missed a couples days of work before dragging myself out of bed and back into reality. 

2.  Somewhere between packing in Pebble Beach and unpacking in Maryland, I lost my favorite watch.  The beautiful one that Blake gave me for our anniversary. 

3.  Last night I came home exhausted from my first full day back at work to a home that smelled distinctly of laundry.  This is not a smell I dislike.  But yesterday it was a smell the confused me seeing as I hadn't gotten around to doing laundry since our return. 

I wondered if I were just making it up.  My nose, after all, was pretty stuffy and I couldn't be sure I wasn't having an olfactory hallucination. 

But after sniffing all around the house, I opened the door to our laundry/unifinished basement and discovered that my almost-new, Costco-sized detergent had fallen off the high shelf, burst, and spread all over the floor. 

It's under the washer and dryer, under the shelves, soaked into the lawn bags, goo-ing up the vaccuum.  Not only did it restrain itself to the huge puddle you see here, but there were also splatter marks across almost the entire length of the room.  You name it, the blue goo got it. 

I guess it was a sign that I should do laundry.  In order to save some of the goop (detergent is expensive!) I dipped the clothes directly into the puddle and then threw them into the washer.  No additional soap needed.   

Embarassing?  Yes.  White trash?  Maybe.  But Genius?  Yes!

I spent about two hours trying to clean up the mess, but only made it about halfway before giving up and leaving it for a weekend project. 

At least my floors will be clean.  If anyone feels like having a picnic on our soon-to-be-pristine cement floors, let me know.

5.  Oh, and today I fell in the shower.  I'm not sure if I'm 26 or 86, but there you have it.  I was minding my own business, pumice-stoning my foot, and before I knew what was happening I had hit my knee, hip and head on the tub and tile in rapid succession. 

It must have sounded a lot worse than it was, because Blake came running up the stairs to make sure I was ok.  I briefly considered claiming amnesia (re: The Vow) and screaming at the "unknown man" invading my shower, but I kept calm and decided to dry off and call it a morning instead.

At this rate, it'll be a miracle if I can make it through the weekend.