Thursday, November 17, 2011

I Want To Punch Adulthood In the Belly

I'm not the most mature of people.  At best I'm at the maturity level of a kindergartner with a whoopi cushion. Sometimes adult things sneak up on me and give me a good scare.  They make me remember I'm a grown up now.  It kind of sucks.  

A couple weeks ago I had another test for the mystery illness. No answers as far as that goes.  It turns out the process of elimination in the medical community takes a really long time.  I was feeling frustrated after spending the entire first half of the day doing awful yucky health tests that I hope I never have to do again (I would seriously rather sit in a vat of spiders than do the adrenaline test again).  I felt bad for Husbandman having to drag me all over the county to get tests done especially when we still have no answers.  It means late hours at work for him and pretty much all the responsibilities and stress of our lives are shoved onto him.  I try so hard not to add any more stress to his life.

I was exhausted and having weird side effects to the adrenaline, which was expected, but there were things that needed to be done so I was puttering around the house doing as much as I could.  I walked down the hall and when I passed the bathroom I heard a weird noise.  It sounded like someone in a diesel engine truck was parked in our driveway and the noise was coming through the bathroom window.  I went to the window to see who was there but the noise got quieter when I got to the window.  Like a game of hot and cold.  I was getting colder.  I slowly started retracing my steps.  I was getting burning agonizingly hot.  I was standing in front of the toilet.  

It was rumbling.  Actually rumbling.  I had visions of water shooting out in a powerful geyser spraying the ceiling and knocking down shelves.  Did you ever see that episode of Simpsons when Bart flushed the cherry bomb down the toilet? That scene was running on loop through my imagination. I tried calling Husbandman.  My stomach sank.  I didn't want to tell him but I had no idea what to do.  Plumbing bills swam in front of my eyes.  I started to cry.  I felt so helpless and not strong enough to handle one more thing.  It was like the straw that broke the camels back.  With each ring of Husbandman's number my mind came up with more and more awful scenarios.  I questioned every decision I've ever made in my life and wondering if Husbandman regretting marrying me.

He didn't answer.  This was not one of the scenarios.  What do I do without Husbandman?  He's the rock...he's the one who handles all the scary things.  He's the one who kills the spiders as I shriek like a banshee from somewhere up really high so even if they jump they can't get me.  He's the one who checks the basement for the hobos (call me crazy but I know hobos live in my basement. That's why we so fondly have dubbed it "Hobo Village").  What the *bleep* was I going to do about the toilet if Husbandman wasn't available.  I'll tell you what I did.  I text him. Frantically.  

Me: yeah the toilet is making this terrifying noise and I was wondering if I should turn off the water or something else responsible like that.

Me: Sweet goodness please see this text before the toilet floods and I drown!

Husbandman: What kind of noise?

Me: Like someone running an old truck in our driveway. Like white noise with a slight bass. Like phlegm-y pervert or coma patient breathing.

Husbandman: *eye roll that I can pick up over text* Is there water in the tank?  Did the stopper go all the way down?

Me:  The stopper is down.  There is water in the tank.  The tank is perfectly normal.  But the all of the water has bubbled and gurgled out of the bowl and it's completely dry and it's making the scary pervert breathing noise!!!


Husbandman: Is it flooding anywhere in the bathroom or the basement?

Me: Nope, we're all dry.  

Husbandman: Try flushing it.

Me:  No way!  Are you crazy?! It's going to explode.  I'm not flushing it.
*looking up number for bomb squad plumbers*

Husbandman:  Please just flush the toilet and tell me what happens.

Me: Fine!  But if it geysers I am blaming you!  

Before I flush the toilet I decided it might be worthwhile to move everything off of the bathroom floor.  Puppy-butt-dog watched me.  I think she could tell something scary was happening because she was watching all of this from behind the couch.  Her dopey face kept peeking out and going back in to hide.  It took every ounce of guts I had.  I flushed that toilet.  I flushed it with more determination and anticipation then I have ever flushed a toilet before.  

And it did all of the normal things a toilet is supposed to do.  No scary pervert noise, no geyser.  Like nothing had happened. 

Husbandman: Did you flush it?

Me: Yeah it's acting completely normal.  

Husbandman: OK let me know if it does anymore weird stuff.

Really toilet?!  REALLY?!?!  

Amidst all of my feelings of confusion yuckiness I felt so relieved.  I didn't feel like I had overreacted, that noise the toilet was making had been unholy and unnatural.  I'm still so grateful it didn't make a yucky geyser.  I'd have packed up and moved.

The whole rest of the day I kept going to the bathroom and listening to the toilet and lifting the lid to check the water level.  It was like a really bizarre OCD compulsion.  Every little bit of every little chore was punctuated with checking the toilet.  Wash a plate, look at the toilet water, wash a glass, look at the toilet water, wash a spoon, look at the toilet water.  That was my afternoon.  

I feel so lucky to have such a level headed Husbandman.  I'm so grateful he doesn't freak out or overreact or get snappish when things happen.  He stays calm and talks normal while I run around like a headless chicken shrieking like a banshee.  

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

I May Not Feel Rested, But BOY Do I Feel Productive

Last night I tried a sleep aid again.  I think Husbandman and I need to have a rule that if I take one he has to make sure I go STRAIGHT to bed.  Otherwise I stay up until 4 am making random lists. Last time I made a playlist and sent people nonsense text messages.  This time I made all sorts of grocery/shopping lists AND a complete home and yard remodel. The weird thing is that my home/yard remodel designs from last night are plausible and actually kind of awesome.  Also they were really organized. Like an OCD person made the lists.  The had titles and even spacing and were so not me.  I bet it was those darn elves again.  You know how they are, always doing peoples jobs and showing them up in the process (please tell me I'm not the only one who loved the Elves and the Shoemaker book as a child).

For those of you who know me well you know I hate nothing more than doing decorative type stuff. We've lived in our house for close to 9 months now and I still have yet to hang a single thing up on my wall or any cutesy homey displays of anything.  Everything kind of just gets put where it falls.  I have no themes, no patterns. I'm not even at college housing level here. It's not that I don't have plenty of things to hang I just don't get into design. I've tried to convince quite a few people to do it for me.  But for once I'm actually kind of excited about decorating my house.  Though you probably shouldn't be too surprised if I call you up on the phone and try to get you to come "help".