© 2003 Jamie Zawinski <firstname.lastname@example.org>
So apparently one of my jumbo ``I-hate-grocery-stores''-sized drums of liquid laundry detergent had a small leak in it. I vaguely recall rzr_grl mentioning this to me. Uh. A week or two ago. So of course it's all over my laundry room floor, and even after sopping it up with the conveniently-located dirty clothes, the floor's still all slippery. And I can't even get the shit off my hands, since laundry soap is so much more oily than hand-soap is. Yuck!
Fortunately the leaky container was sitting atop some big plastic storage boxes, and most of the puddle made its way into one of the boxes (though of course enough dribbled down the side to coat the floor pretty evenly.) So I've got this 3' plastic box with about half a gallon of viscous blue goo in it. What do I do? Well, I get a cup and I scoop it back into the other (un-punctured) laundry detergent bottle, of course! How ghetto is that? I felt a little silly doing it, but I told myself ``every cup you scoop is two more weeks that you can put off going back to the store.''
You might be shocked and amazed to know that my laundry room does double duty as the place to stack all kinds of useless junk, the bottom of which is now also sticky (yet, in some sense, very, very clean.) I should probably just call in an air strike and burn the room to the ground, but the B Option is also looking pretty attractive ("if I can't easily see or reach the puddle of detergent, it's probably not really there.")
Oh, and that box? It had been used for Burning Man transport, so now there's lint and Playa dust in the soap bottle. But that's ok, right, because soap is, by definition, clean.
It's days like this that I feel deeply unqualified for adulthood.