Sometimes I get stupid ideas. Which is pretty common for all of us, I suppose. But sometimes those stupid ideas take root and I can’t shake them out until I work them through to their conclusion.
A few days ago on Twitter The Anti-Barbie Doll (If you’re not following @polyhumorous, you totally should) has this glorious Tweet: “When the fridge starts beeping because the kids held it open too long, I start screaming a countdown. I told them it blows up in 10 seconds.”
My brain instantly took it to the next level. Here is my reply: “I want that fridge, and a super soaker full of pudding.”
I have no frigging idea where that came from, but the short story result was that I was compelled to go buy a Super-Soaker, some pudding (why did I choose chocolate?) and an extra roll of paper towels (a vast underestimation).
The first go was kind of a flop. Pudding kind of oozed out the end, but plopped onto the floor. Too viscous. So I took the Super Soaker apart and gave it to my four-year old to go wash in the bathroom sink while I made the next batch of pudding.
I, um, forgot that there is a slow drain in the bathroom. Just as I was tapping out the beaters and considering how much extra milk to add (why in Hell didn’t I just use water?) Quinn came racing out.
“Mama, come quick to see what I did!”
In our house, that phrase is a lot like, “There’s a fire in the kitchen,” or “The dog’s chewing on the cat’s head again!” It is grounds for immediate action.
But I was too late.
The sink had filled and overflowed while he washed out the gun, and there was about an inch and a half of standing water in the left corner of the bathroom floor.
And when Quinn had realized what was happening he just bolted for me, so the water was still running.
Turn the water off, slip on the wet floor and go down to drive an elbow onto the training potty (we don’t even use this anymore, why is it still here?), then back up to swear a lot and grab the extra roll of paper towels.
The extra roll. As in one. One roll of paper towels against the flood was a lot like trying to take down a mammoth with a barrage of spitballs.
Of course, because this is me, all of our real towels – the terrycloth kind – were stuck in the washer soaking in pre-spin cycle limbo because I forgot to put the 10 lb medicine ball on the right spot on the door when I set it going. The medicine ball triggers the spin cycle. Yes I have to do this. There is a new washer in the garage that doesn’t have this little idiosyncrasy, but that’s another story.
So no towels.
Remembering the cache of my parents’ items that are being stored in the garage, I raced out there to dig through the boxes, grabbed an armload of their old towels and raced back in to lay them on the floor. Two trips later I had made a reasonable dent in the water, but had to throw down two fleece blankets to finish the job.
When I cleaned up the towels and threw the sodden mass in the tub, I slipped again, cracked the same elbow against the edge of the closet door.
I swore some more, then looked down. The floor tiles near the sink are curling up, and the corner of one has come off completely.
Awesome. It took me nearly an hour to clean the mess and hide the worst of the damage to the floor with quick round of silicone caulk. But I’m very glad replacing that floor was on this summer’s to do list.
You would think that this little disaster would have been the end of it.
Once I get a bee like this in my bonnet, I have to take it through to its conclusion. It’s a sickness.
So we took off for Round two.
I mixed the pudding according to directions, then added an extra half cup of water.
Better. but still no projection to speak of.
Round three was the winner. In part, because it occurred to me to do a little tweaking to the gun itself. The internal tube is fairly good sized – a bit smaller than a pencil. But the hole at the end is a lot smaller. Just a few millimeters.
A quick jab with the end of a compass point expanded it to about the size of a ballpoint pen ink tube.
Another quarter cup of extra liquid, and we were in business. It doesn’t project as far as water does. But it still has great aim, and projects far enough to give me a good head start after I ambush my husband.
Next weekend he’s building me a fire pit in anticipation of an outdoor kitchen. I expect a lot of bitching.
So the gun is in hiding, and I’ve already stocked up on the pudding mix. Now, I’m just waiting.