Last night at about 9 p.m., I went into the kitchen to take another antibiotic pill (cephalexin 4 times a day), took one step onto the kitchen rug and squished. The first thing I thought was “Oh, no. Not again.” (In 2004, I had a plumbing disaster which flooded the kitchen, ruined the carpet in my bedroom, had me washing dishes in the bathtub and sleeping in a sleeping bag on an air mattress on my office floor for over a month. Let me just say that jackhammering through the concrete slab to reach a certain T-junction in the pipes was seriously considered, and leave it at that.) Then I realized that the 5-gallon/19-liter bottle of water on the dispenser that was 3/4 full earlier that afternoon was now practically empty. I have a little Dirt Devil “spot scrubber” which, in addition to dispensing rug shampoo and scrubbing, has a suction function, so I ran and got that and sucked about half a gallon of water up off the floor and out of the rug. I ended up wrestling an 8 x 12 foot (2.438 x 3.6576 meter) wet rug out into the back yard and up onto the clothes line in the middle of the night, plus the little rug, also wet, I keep under the kitties’ food bowls.
— What caused the spillage is somewhat of a mystery. The water dispenser shows no signs of leakage this morning. It is, however, right next to the garbage can, and I suspect one of the kitties — either the grey one because the black one chased her up there, or the black one, just because — ended up on top of the garbage can and knocked or leaned against the upended water bottle atop it, broke the suction, et voilà. —
Then I had to mop the kitchen floor and, because I had to take it up and empty it out anyway, I ended up disassembling and cleaning the kitties’ Pet Fountain while I was at it. The Pet Fountains are a great idea, but as our water here is very hard, it was encrusted with lime deposits — even after just a month — so it took me the better part of an hour to clean the durn thing, including liberal applications of Lime-A-Way to get off the worst of the scale deposits. I got that sorted out, reassembled, refilled and back in business.
Then I changed out the kitties’ food and water bowls, loaded up and started the dish washer, washed my hands like I was prepping for surgery, and unloaded the bread machine — got a beautiful 1-1/2 pound/ 0.680389 kg loaf of white bread out of it that I had to turn sideways to fit into the bread box — which is to say it rose well. Then I took a shower and went to bed.
This morning, the alarm rings, I go into the kitchen to take another dose of antibiotic, and . . . the dishwasher is still going! . . . .
My duplex manager does not seem to think I really need a dishwasher, and I suppose I don’t, really, but a quick google reveals they can be had for around $300, and the one I have is at least 2 years older than dirt. Maybe I can sweet talk her into replacing this one if it continues to malfunction. In the meantime, I need to get to work, and I need a bit of breakfast. I think I’ll have some good ol’ Bon Maman on a couple of slices of this new, fresh, loaf of bread . . . .
On the way to the kitchen just now, I discovered the kitties have knocked something over and broken a petite cadeau that my boss at my first medical transcription job made for me one year (she made each of us one).
For holidays like Christmas and Easter, she would give us all some little tchotchke, many of them hand made, just as a token of appreciation. The kitties are not in my good books at the moment (see above), and this does nothing to improve the situation. This particular little Christmas ornament used to hang on Phred, my pet Norfolk Island Pine tree, until his untimely demise at the age of 29 years. I was saving it for Phred Junior(s), who is/are not big enough to wear it yet.
Oh, and did I mention that there was a hairball in the middle of the hallway this morning, courtesy (?) of the black one?