One Of Those Days
One of Those Days
Cheryl was having one of those days. She woke up late thinking she hit the snooze but mistakenly hit the off button. Something went wrong with the toaster and every piece of toast was burnt, even when she’d turned down the dial to the lightest setting. She’d decided to unplug it when it sparked on the last batch which she popped up herself. Susan missed her bus and Roger, whose alarm never even went off, had to drive her to school because Kevin was not awake yet.
Kevin’s school was closed due to a mold issue and it was Cheryl’s turn to stay home. Roger stayed home when Susan had the flu, so this week Cheryl would use PTO.
After the morning rush, things seemed to calm down, but then the cat got sick and was throwing up all over the house. Every room she went into had a hairball or a pile of half-digested food. She called the vet and got a late-afternoon appointment and the recommendation was not to feed the cat until after the visit.
She finally got to sit down for a minute and have a well-deserved cup of coffee when she heard the upstairs toilet flush. She thought it was the cat since he sometimes liked flushing the toilet. Usually the bathroom door was closed so the cat couldn’t flush the toilet or turn the hot water on, but she guessed that Roger forgot to close the door since he was running late. Then, she heard the toilet flush again. And again. And a fourth flush.
She rose from the wooden chair, gave a heavy sigh, and went upstairs to investigate. She got to the top of the staircase and there was water getting ready to trickle down the steps. The hallway contained a small stream heading toward the kids’ rooms and stairs and the bathroom floor was covered with water and some white fluffy stuff. At that moment, Cheryl was glad Roger had talked her into extending the hardwood floors on the stairs and in the upstairs hallway. Carpeting would have been a soggy mess.
“Hi,” she said to the dark-haired toddler.
“Hi, mommy,” Kevin replied.
“What are you doing?” she asked Kevin, the three year old who was supposed to still be sleeping.
“I had to go potty,” he said definitively. “But I couldn’t flush my pull-up.”
Another heavy sigh escaped Cheryl’s thin lips, thin because she was biting down on both the top and bottom lip. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she decided it was best to just clean up the toddler and the mess. She started with the toddler and then asked Kevin to play in his room while she cleaned up the water. Cheryl got some old towels and started sopping up the water. She called the plumber to fix the clog.
“I’m sorry, mommy,” Kevin said, his big, blue eyes looking up at her. “I promise, I’ll never put anything in the upstairs toilet again.”
She mustered a smile, “Okay, sweetie. It’s all going to be okay.”
When she finished, she put the wet towels into the washing machine and turned it on. She poured a fresh cup of coffee into her black and gold mug and sat down at the kitchen table. As she sipped the coffee from her large mug she heard the powder room toilet flush twice. She yanked the tablecloth as she abruptly rose to stop the flushing and spilled her coffee all over the yellow tablecloth.
“One of those days,” she said.
