You know how when you touch a phone suddenly your house turns into a child slaughter house—at least it sounds like one—well, my phone rang this morning. It was semi-important but shouldn’t have been a long call, and the boys were happily watching a movie, so I took it down stairs stealthily hoping they’d not notice giving me the chance to actually hear what was being said. I’m down stairs about five minutes before my it-is-way-to-freakin’-quiet alarm is going off and the lady on the phone is still blah blahing. I’m trying to uh-huh and yeah her into shutting the hell up when I hear the unmistakable crash of glass. I basically hang up on her and run upstairs…
We have this cabinet in our living room with liquor on the highest shelf and DVDs the kids have lost the cases to on the bottom. They had pushed an ottoman to the cabinet, stuck a chair on the ottoman, and a toy on top of that and achieved gremlin height capable of opening said cabinet from a precarious perch. They then, I presume, wiped all some 150 DVDs into the floor followed by a second swipe that knocked several booze bottles down on top of said pile bursting two in a shower of glass and liquor goodness.
First, I had to pick up and clean off all like 150 discs while squatting as you can’t sit on a wet, glass ridden floor. This would be no big deal if I wasn’t 35 weeks pregnant with a baby that decided to drop like 10 weeks early. I finish that and have to carefully vacuum, then shampoo the booze out of my carpet all whilst listening to spawn one scream like a banshee until his voice is hoarse because he had to sit in time-out while I cleaned. The whole ordeal took me about 2 hours for a 5 minute call that should have taken like 2 minutes and cost me one nearly empty bottle of 99 Berries and one half full bottle of black cherry rum. Thank god they at least didn’t break the vodka..and now..my living room smells all black cherry fresh—always a silver lining, eh?
Moral: Phones are evil?