Accidents Happened

Accidents happen, right? RIGHT? So, these accidents happened:

In a fit of cleanliness, I used a pumice stone to clean all the hard water stains out of our toilets (boy, THAT'S fun).  Yes, I wore gloves. The end result was satisfying, and my arms ached the next day from all the effort.

I also used the pumice on the sink in my daughter's bathroom; then, because she complains that hardly any water comes out of the spout, I decided to remove the aerator and clean the mineral deposits out of it (we have very hard water - I live in what was once a mining town). I probably should have done this a long, LONG time ago. Believe me, I wish I had.

That aerator would NOT budge. I tried pliers. Nope. Next, I used locking pliers (sometimes called vice grips) and elbow grease, and finally, I felt it give. The aerator dropped into my hand, along with something TERRIBLY IMPORTANT from inside the faucet, and water began spewing underneath the sink. I turned the water off under the sink, said some VERY BAD words, and started watching YouTube videos on how to install a bathroom fixture. Stay tuned.

This is the aerator. You can see that it
was definitely clogged. It was supposed to
unscrew from the faucet. Supposed to.

See the brass part on the right? That
was NOT supposed to come off.
Not at all. Nope. 

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I was looking through my blog stats and saw that someone found my blog by Googling "zentangle vagina." So of course, I Googled "zentangle vagina," and guess whose blog post comes up as the first entry?

The zentangle vagina I accidentally drew.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Before I tell you this story, keep reminding yourself that I MEANT WELL. 

In June, my daughter had a weekly volleyball tournament in a city an hour's drive away. She kept complaining that the school where they were playing was disgusting, with bugs everywhere, but sitting in the bleachers, I never saw any bugs and thought she was exaggerating.

During the last night of games, I had gone down to the gym floor to give her some ibuprofen for a headache, and as I was climbing a back staircase to the second floor and the bleacher seating, I saw something moving in a corner. It looked kind of worm-like, or, dare I say, SNAKE-like and was wiggling rapidly but not going anywhere.

After a sharp intake of breath, I leaned closer and realized I was seeing a teeny, tiny lizard, its tail caught up in a disgusting wad of hair and dust and God only knows what else. He was barely two inches long, slim bodied with a bright blue tail. Kind of cute, really, as long as you didn't think about him being a snake with legs. A few feet away from him, another teeny, tiny lizard was sitting very still, and upon closer inspection, I saw that he, too, had a (much smaller) hairy dust bunny thing stuck to HIS tail.

I didn't want to touch either the lizard OR the hairy dust bunny, but I felt like freeing the snake with legs was the right thing to do (all the while trying not to let my mind go to why there were lizards in the building in the first place), so I slipped off my flip flop and put the toe of it on the hairy dust bunny, holding it in place so the lizard could pull free and run away. When that didn't work, I tried to shake it free, and, well...

This is how it panned out:

IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, OKAY?! I told the other lizard he was on his own and fled the scene. 

I am a lizard killer, and I'm not proud of it.