On Monday morning, Jafta woke up early to use the bathroom, and we suddenly heard him calling for help. Mark ran in to find Jafta staring at a rat in the toilet. THE LID HAD BEEN CLOSED. I can't decide which part of this story is more bizarre: the fact that this rat somehow swam up through the plumbing, or that fact that my husband's solution was to flush the rat back from whence it came. I questioned Mark heavily on that decision, thinking it sounded a little impulsive. But I soon forgot about it.
A few days later, my mom was in town visiting and India was riding in her rental car. India has a tendency to puke in the car. (Or at art galleries. Whatever.) India lost her breakfast on the ride with my mom, and my mom grabbed two towels to clean it up. Two towels, covered in bits of regurgitated blueberry bagel. She suggested I put them on a pre-wash cycle. I did. I think you know how this story ends.
A week prior to the Disproportionately Consequential Laundry Flood of 2010, I ripped out part of the wall in Jafta's room. I did this because I was so sick of the musical chairs we were playing trying to get these kids to sleep well. (Little did I know I would soon be faced with a hotel suite with two beds for all six of us. How much do I feel like taking a sledgehammer into these walls? A LOT). I was excited to finish Jafta's loft bed, but little did I know that the walls I had so enthusiastically demolished were full of asbestos. Which is really only a health risk when it is unsettled so that small particles fill the room and subsequently line the lungs. The danger of asbestos is being in contact with the miniscule particles over a long period of time. I had released those particles all over the boy's room.
Now, this is the part where everyone says, "Oooh . . . Everything happens for a reason! God was protecting you from living with that asbestos. This flood was His way of discovering the health risks in your home." Now, I'm still in the middle of this mess and not really ready to start chalking the whole thing up to Divine Intervention. But at the same time, I have been saying a few prayers to be spared from any locusts or flying frogs for the remainder of August.
(Once I change the flooring my house will automatically look like a giant, minimalist loft space, right? Only with an exersaucer artfully placed in the corner.)