This is going to be one of those years that will definitely be remembered.
Firstly, my kitchen faucet exploded on Monday morning and proceeded to make a fountain every time I turned it on. Jim chased all over town looking for the parts to fix it, but no one carries them because “those are supposed to last the lifetime of the faucet.”
I called the manufacturer -
(After heroically pulling that information from my obsessively organized cabinet in about two minutes. Did this garner applause? No. Once again, my fantastic filing skills go unnoticed by my family. Ingrates.)
- and they said they would send a whole new sprayer assembly thingamajig. I said great, could they overnight it since Thursday is a holiday and plus because I have kind of gotten used to that whole running-water business?
Guess not, since as of 3pm Friday, I am still waiting.
Secondly, we have a tradition of going to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science on Thanksgiving Day. It is a great day to go, because we practically have the place to ourselves. They serve a big turkey dinner and all the docents are in good moods and there aren’t any pesky school groups clogging up everything. This year, we decided to go on Wednesday. Why not? One day won’t make that big of a difference, right? Who goes out to the museum on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving? Everyone is busy grocery shopping and baking pies.
WRONG. In fact, there were LOTS of other people who go out to museums the day before Thanksgiving. LOTS AND LOTS. We had lunch in the cafe and hit the exhibit about the Amazon we wanted to see. It was interesting and we had a good time in spite of the crowd.
As we got in the car to go home, Big started complaining that his tummy was hurting. He has a sensitive stomach, and we chalked it up to eating a crappy lunch and just getting over a cold.
He puked all over the damn place about 15 minutes into our trip. I careened across four lanes of Denver traffic looking for a place to exit while he gacked his guts up all over my car.
The car I just made the final payment on. That’s not really relevant here, I’m just sayin’.
Luckily, I had brought along the standard extra set of Just In Case Clothes. I found part of a roll of paper towels and some antibacterial wipes and got up the worst of it while Jim got Big in clean clothes. It was about 9 degrees out, and the poor guy was freezing to death when we finally got going again.
Let me just tell you right now that cranking up the heat in a car that’s covered in macaroni and cheese puke is slightly less than optimal.
But we sort of got used to it during the TWO HOUR drive home.
Thirdly - yes, there is a third thing – whilst trying to cook Thanksgiving dinner, the kitchen sink became clogged.
Clogged very badly indeed, because SOMEONE didn’t believe me that you can’t stuff potato peels down the disposal.
Especially when you can only run the water at a trickle because of the whole stupid exploding-faucet-water-fountain Situation of Holiday Awesomeness.
I am sure wives everywhere can imagine the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I noticed my husband repeatedly flipping the disposal switch on and off and saying to himself, “Huh. What’s going on here?”
Just as I needed to drain the potatoes, he was crawling under the sink with a bucket and a wire coat hanger.
Seriously, people. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
After HOURS of peeling and unclogging and cooking and cursing, we finally got everything on the table.
Big pushed the dreaded mashed potatoes around his plate and wondered why we weren’t having tacos.
Which is now officially an option for Christmas dinner.