Saturday, April 18, 2009

The drink that got the best of me

It's Saturday night. Late. The day has been long and hard. Working most of 12 hours to reclaim my house to the side of law, order and cleanliness. Scrubbing evidence of weekly grime from my floor was the last stop on my beat. I filed my report "I quit" at 8:00 p.m. Exhausted, I fall to the sofa and try to remove the memories of my shift. Sights no household should have to endure.

The drone of the newscast is now finished. I know sleep is still far off. Something to relax is what I need. Coffee? Negative. Hot Chocolate? That's the ticket.

I put water on to boil as I ready to retire. At the siren of the teapot, I pour my cup and stir while turning lights out and placing the phone in its cell. In the dark I hear the crash. The cup hits the counter and hot contents explode to freedom. What's a cleaning cop to do?

"Blessed be the Lord," I exclaim. Lights turn on for inspection. It's dismal destruction of a good scrub job. I apprehend cleaning rags and towels and re-clean my clean floor. More hot chocolate? Why not, it will take more than that to make me surrender. I use a different strategy.

I pour my cup with milk and hit 2 minutes on the microwave while I shine the last of the mess. The timer goes and I tear open the chocolate pouch and start to pour. The pouch escapes my grasp dumping chocolate mix on the cup, counter and floor.

"Oh my gosh," I cry. This situation is borderline riotous. But any seasoned veteran knows to keep a cool head. Undaunted, I stir in the remaining mix, pop the cup in the microwave for another 30 seconds and head for the vacuum. I wisely deduce this will be quicker on dry powder. Yes, but the vacuum couldn't handle the mini marshmallows and I had to take it apart to use the nozzle. As I secure my weapon back in the closet, I look forward to my victory and comforting warm drink.

I open the door of the microwave and discover another crime scene. I nuked it too long and the milk boiled over. I observe my cup resting in a pool of chocolate. With the slump of a beat-weary cop, I scrub the plate and carry the criminal to the reporting room. I surrender. As good as this drink tastes, it really got the best of me.

2 comments:

Tami Boesiger said...

What did ya do? Pray for patience?

kpjara said...

Oh My WORD! You are SUCH a better person than me! I would have been freaking out.

May God bless you fully!