Boycotting Koolaid


My husband is trying to tame his personal dragon, Mountain Dew. I thought it was a weight loss thing, until he decided that cherry Koolaid would be his version of methadone. Now I don’t know why the hell he’s giving up Dew. But that’s not the point today.

Today we’re going to talk about how Koolaid flooded my laundry room. Not WITH Koolaid, thank goodness. But it’s totally their fault. Because my son has developed a taste for the red crap and spilled it all over my favorite tablecloth. That shit stains, y’all. So being the superhero that I am, I blotted the worst of it, gathered it up and put it in the utility sink with some oxygen bleach. Yay! I was making my starving son lunch, so I let the water run and finished his super nutritious lunch of chicken nuggets and canned fruit.

And left the water running.

Soak that in for a bit. (Yes, it is a pun. Deal.) The laundry room is tiled and so the roughly inch and a half of water standing there will probably not do much damage. It’s been mopped up with every towel I own. The water that bled into the hall is another matter. That is slowly seeping towards my living room, laughing at my attempts to suck it up with the carpet cleaner. The towels are in the dryer, waiting to be dry enough to soak up more water, the industrial fan is blowing on it and I can hear the mold growing.

I had to text my husband to find the above-mentioned fan. Luckily, he’s crazy busy at work and hasn’t thought to ask why I need it, but I can only count on his ignorance for so long. He’ll get home and we’ll be have a reckoning, of the “Luuuuuuccceeeeeee! You got some ‘splainin’ to do, ” variety. Sigh.

I really hate it when I fuck up.

Let’s blame Koolaid, okay? Better yet, NONE of this would have happened if my husband were still drinking Dew. So really, it’s all his fault. Yeah. I think I can sell that.

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