This morning I was taking a shower. To me, a shower is a sacred time. You are alone, you have privacy even in a family of six. I can sing both parts of "A'int No Mountain High Enough" and no one will give me shit for it. Needless to say, I can't quite understand why my family thinks that moving the laundry to the dryer can't wait another 5 minutes while I finish sudsing. So this morning, when I heard the familiar sound of the bathroom door opening right in the middle of the chorus I was already tense. Follow that up with:
"Emmmm"
"Yes."
"You're going to need to cut the shower short, the plumbing is backed up..."
well, that's just cruel.
Apparently the plumbing had backed up and my mother in her post-surgical condition couldn't do much about it, so newly squeaky clean it was my job to carry all the soaked towels and bathmats up to the wash.
In the duration I had thrown on a simple dress, rushing to help my ailing mother.
"Emmmm" she says while on the phone...
"Yes."
"Can you put on something less...well, revealing? You look like you called the plumber cause you're lonely"...
Fast forward a bit and my brother comes home. My family is one of those families (like every family) where each member has their mental illness. If you think this doesn't apply to your family it does, you just haven't realized it yet.
Anyhoo, he came home, rushed to the toilet, and when he saw the unflushed poo he nearly died. His condition happens to be OCD.
"Can someone tell me why there is fucking SHIT in the toilet?? This isn't a fucking third world country!!"
Well honestly I'm not too sure at this moment.
You're hilarious.
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