|Harley the Hoover Hound, cleans up his spilled puppy chow to help his pet parent.|
Some days I am just a total klutz. I tell my brain to do one thing, but my body does another.
I was transferring coffee from a vacuum packed foil wrapper to a coffee can. It appeared to explode sending fresh coffee all over my shirt, sink, counter, stove and floor. This was moments before company was due to arrive. I had just cleaned the place up nicely too. Once I cleaned up that nightmare, I noticed my wheel estate smelled like fresh coffee grounds.
Later it was the fresh brewed, about to be, iced tea. It was sitting in a one quart container, cooling on the counter, when I knocked it over. One quart of hot tea spilled, looksk like three gallons. Much of it lined the spice rack on the back of my counter. I had to remove every spice, wipe the wet bottoms, then mop up all the tea, then put the spices back alphabetically. This happened after the company left, while I still had dirty dishes stacked everywhere. The tea ran under everything, including the produce baskets. I wonder if my bottom layer of potatoes in the basket will be tea flavored now.
Needless to say, I had to move everything to mop up the mess.
Harley was on his tether coming in and out through the open front door. He ran out, after hearing me spill liquid type things but his tether caught on his three-compartment food bowl, sending puppy kibble and water across the floor. He looked embarrassed.
I refilled his bowls, then put them outside, up against the rear tires, a place where I thought it would be hard for him to spill them. I chopped up some leftover chicken from the lunch party, put that in his wet food bowl outside in the little three-compartment tray. He devoured it instantly. I think the chicken just vaporized, the way it vanished. A gust of wind came along, whisking his empty bowl away. He looked as astonished as I did. We found it in the woods, about 100 feet away.
While cleaning up the outside patio area, I collected dirty utensils in one hand, while picking up used paper napkins in the other. Somehow I managed to throw the paper napkins in the sink, while tossing the stainless steel utensils in the garbage.
A few days back, I was flushing out my RV toilet with a long fresh water rinse. The lid was up, the rinse button turned on, fresh water was running down the toilet, into the holding tank, then I planned to pull the plug on the black water holding tank, letting the fresh water whoosh give a final rinse to the holding tank.
Like a pure idiot, I opened up the vanity cabinet on the wall. Right before my very eyes, a plastic bottle pops out of the cabinet, as if spring-loaded, then shoots down the toilet and into the holding tank. I couldn't believe it. I shut the fresh water off. I got out the flashlight, turned off the water, then opened up the toilet bowl bottom, so I could look down into the holding tank without the water rushing in. I was hoping the errant bottle would float by then I could grab it. But grab it with what? My arm wasn't long enough even though I do own rubber gloves. What if my arm got stuck? Then what?
That reminds me when I worked on a tall ship. The bathroom in each cabin was built into the shower stall. So that basically, when one showered, the toilet and sink got a shower too. To conserve water, the ship had a spring loaded push button for the shower, to remind folks to be gentle on water usage. The toilets didn't have lids, just a seat. People often left the lids up, we would heal over sailing, the lid would bang down, eventually breaking, so none of the toilets had lids anymore. One single male, staying in his cabin alone, decided if he stood on the toilet seat with one foot, he could use the other foot to push the shower water button continuously, thus having both his hands free to wash while he wasted lots of water.
At least that's the story he more or less told us.
While passengers were eating breakfast, the stewardesses would run down to the cabins to clean them before we set sail. As they entered the hallway to clean the cabins below, they heard someone hollering "Help!" The stewardess knocked politely at the door, the man said "I need help in here!" She used her key to open the door, and low and behold, there is the naked man with his foot stuck firmly down the toilet. The stewardess burst into laughter, much to his embarrassment. She didn't think to toss him the bath towel, which was out of reach of him, folded up neatly on his bunk. Instead she ran to the dining room, still laughing, whispering in the captain's ear.
The captain showed up, looked at the man, couldn't help him get his foot out of the toilet either, as the man was screaming in pain. The captain fetched the engineer, who turned off the water, removed the toilet, then removed the man's foot. It looked broken, so a few sturdy men carried him to the boat's launch, then ashore to a taxi to take him to the hospital. He returned, late in the day, joining us at a new anchorage, with a cast upon his leg. Naturally all the passengers kept asking him "How did you break that leg?"
back to my problem... the outdoor Bab-B-Q tongs would probably reach down the toilet, and inside the holding tank, but then ewwwww. I like my BBQ tongs, I sure don't want to sacrifice them this way. I sure wouldn't want to cook with them afterwards, no matter how much I sterilized them, I would still KNOW. So that was out of the question.
Well, the bottle never floated by where I could see it anyhow, but I must admit, the tank was looking pretty clean from what I could tell with my flashlight. Finally I said to heck with it, and pulled the plug on the waste water tank. I just hope it ran down and out the 3 inch tube connecting my motorhome to the campground sewer system. Time will tell...
I've just become a befuddled klutz.
Yesterday promised a torrential storm with 40mph gutsy, gusty winds. My outdoor patio mat was saturated in yellow pollen. I was hoping the rains would wash it away, so I anchored it down best I could on the concrete. It has little loops for nailing in tent pegs to hold it to the earth, but when it lays on the concrete, which they provided here at my new camping spot, well, there is nothing to anchor it down with. This camping rug is 9x12 feet. A birthday gift from last year. It has held up super well. I've had tons of fun using it. I placed boards on it (the ones I use to level my motorhome when I am parked on crooked terrain) then I put a big heavy rock over one of the boards to help secure the rug for the impending storm. Incredibly the rock blew away, but the board did not. How does that happen? On another side I used the 8 foot picnic table to anchor it down. Through sheer luck, the rug survived the storm. But it's now covered, as is the entire patio, in the little yellow dangly things. More pollen.
Oh yeah! My birthday is next Monday! YIPPEE! I lived another whole year. Those doctors that predicted doom and gloom a year and a half ago, sure would be shocked! But I'm not going to see them. I feel like sending them my birthday card, telling them "Ha, ha ha! The jokes on you! I've outlived your predictions and I'm feeling pretty feisty too!"
What do I want for my birthday? Whirled Peas!
Oops, I meant World Peace. But the chances of world peace are slim to none, so I'll settle for whirled peas. :)
Actually, if I placed a birthday wish, it would be for dark chocolate and a compact washing machine. I found a compact washing machine on Amazon. The reviews are really good. Those New Yorkers in their tiny apartments seem to think it's the best thing since elevators were invented. It will fit perfectly in my wheel estate. There is a big empty corner in my bedroom that is just begging to have a compact washer in it. Being that I am workcamping this spring and summer, 15 miles from the laundry mat, a washing machine will pay for itself pretty quickly, especially since the cost of gas goes up every time someone sneezes. This business of washing clothes by hand is turning out to be far too time consuming. How did the pioneer women do it?
But my wish list has so many things on it, like change the oil in the engine. Oh what fun. Luckily I don't have an oil filter tool, so I haven't forced myself to do it.
I'm too busy cleaning up after my klutzy self.
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