I wake up in a great mood and head downstairs to make coffee feeling
Life is good! It’s Friday, the sun’s beaming across the sky, and then SCREECH....the daily rat race of getting myself and the kids out the door to school and work begins!
While waiting for the coffee to brew, the unmistakable smell of burning rubber wafts in from
the dining room. Sigh. Craning my neck upwards I notice the plumes of smoke emanating from the hanging lantern over the table. Help! Fire! Okay, I’ve got this. I drag a chair over and upon further inspection, I see the melted remains of one of my son’s Rainbow Loom bracelets oozing off the light bulb. How the F did that get there?! Sigh. I get the smoking wreckage cleaned up and move on.
Honest to Sweet Baby Jesus, not 15 minutes later, my daughter comes downstairs and informs me that it smells like something is burning in the bathroom. No, no, dear, don’t worry. The dining room was about to catch fire, but Mommy got it all fixed. She is not
pacified by my explanation, but I ignore her because now the toast is burning in
the toaster and I can only cope with one fire at a time.
After much ear-bending and figurative hand-tugging, I head back upstairs to appease her and lo and behold, the sharp scent of something electrical burning fills my nostrils. Electrical is out of my bailiwick, so I race back downstairs to get my kind, gentle, exceedingly patient
husband. He completes his investigation. Cause: blown outlet next to the sink due to water or toothpaste damage inflicted by my angelic children.
So after avoiding potential destruction of the house to fire THREE times, I rush the kids
into the car and race to the gas station to get a cup of coffee. Not two seconds after pouring the rich liquid gold into the cup, I reach to get a stir straw and accidentally knock the coffee over and all over my coat. At this point, screw the coffee, where's the vodka Vitamin Water??? Sigh. I give up and make my way back to the car to frantically drive the kids to school because we are on the verge of being late...AGAIN, when my 7 year-old begins bawling in the back seat. Sigh. Between sobs and with zero time to spare to go back and look, she tells me that she thinks she dropped her charm bracelet in the gas station. I’ve got this. I reassure her that I'll go back to track down the missing charm bracelet after I drop them off, and if I can't find it, I'll get her a new one. BUT I DON’T WANT A NEW
With only seconds to spare before the tardy bell rings, I pull into the drop off line at
school, the kids exit the vehicle and once they’re out of sight and earshot, I screech away from the curb, flip the radio to my station, blast the Guns N’ Roses song we’re playing and start laughing uncontrollably.
Welcome to the Jungle, indeed. I still haven’t had any coffee… Back to the gas station I
Here's a picture of the bathroom socket: