St. Patrick’s Day turned out to be a bit of a bad luck day for me after all.
After dealing with three wildly different and often erratic personalities all day I was set on going for a run by myself once everyone was finished supper and were settling down.
I went upstairs and got dressed to go out and burn off a day’s worth frustrations. I used the toilet, flushed, walked out of the bathroom and heard Danica wailing over something. Derek was useless in his efforts to calm her down because all she wanted was “MOMMY!!!!” There goes my run.
This made me so angry. I know she wanted her mommy and there wasn’t any subsitituon in the world that would suffice. Still, that didn’t make me any less resentful that Derek couldn’t fill my shoes, just this once and let me go out for my much desired run.
So, when I say that even though I heard the toilet struggle to flush and continue to fill with water, I still walked away you might be more willing to understand it based on the facts of the evening.
I begrudingly stomped my way down the stairs, silently cursing Derek’s ineffectiveness, Danica’s constant neediness and my perception that Derek was trying to sabatoge me. All the while I heard the toilet still running.
And yet, I carried on.
I stormed into the living room, pulled Danica off Derek’s lap and plopped her down in the chair with me, postivitly fuming.
Free of Danica, Derek picked up his laptop and proceeded to mind his own business and became momentarily oblivious to the rest of the world.
In his moments of oblivion and a floor below, I continued to hear the water running. The spite raging in me refused to alert Derek to the potential problem brewing in the upstairs bathroom. I could hear it running from my seat literally two feet from Derek and I was so mad that he was able to just tune us all out, not hearing a single thing amiss around him.
Before long I hear the telltale signs of a leak. The drip-drop, pitter-pat of water falling several feet. I figured that I finally had to say something. Was I nice about it? Not even a little. I scared the bejesus out of Derek when I yelled (from two feet away remember) that he should pay attention for a second or we’re going to need a row boat to get to bed.
He jumped out of his reverie pretty quickly. He ran all over the first floor like a chicken with its head cup off looking for the source of dripping.
He finally ran upstairs and the moaning and groaning that came back down was alarming. I finally got over myself and ran upstairs to see that in the fifteen minutes since I over flowed the toilet, there was a full inch of water accumulated on the bathroom floor and at least three feet of the carpet into our bedroom was soaked right through to the wood.
Oops. And an expensive one at that.
Ever hear of the phrase “cutting off one’s nose just to spite the face”?