on saturday, Mr. REA left me alone for 5 hours.
alone. in my apartment.
during this personal time i:
- folded laundry
- prepared a crockpot meal
- baked treats
- attempted to write a paper
- vacuumed
- contemplated working out
oh yah, and went to the bathroom.
...number two...
it was actually the very first thing i did once he left.
who's got two thumbs and priorities?
this girl.
aaaaand i clogged the toilet.
...as is tradition.
i let the disaster fester, with the intention of returning back to the scene of the crime later to clean up.
unfortunately for me, i was too busy indulging in domestic goodness that i did in fact, forget to clean it up.
by the time i remembered it was too late.
way too late.
Mr. REA came home.
he kissed me hello.
he hung up his coat.
he took off his shoes.
he went into the bathroom.
he went into the closet.
he got out the plunger.
he plunged the toilet.
i stood in the kitchen.
at first i was confused.
then i was completely mortified.
i have vowed to myself never to mention The Incident to Mr. REA as long as i live.
what sort of sicko does he think i am?
but the good news is, he hasn't dumped me yet.
so i think we're good.
