I flooded the laundry room at work on Friday. I didn’t realize one of the washing machines was shooting its rinse water into a clogged drain until water began lapping at my toes, five feet from the drain. I hurtled the vacuum I was cleaning and started swiping the drain with a brush to clear away the debris. Meanwhile, the dust cloth rinse water continued pouring forth in a murky stream. I pushed every button on the washing machine twice before successfully stopping the rinse cycle.
I called my boss as I mopped the laundry room pond into a bucket. She said she might come take a look after the presidential debate, or she might just come in on Saturday. I couldn’t help but calculate the approximate time this mishap would add to the hours I would be spending there on a Friday night. Luckily I miscalculated. I went home just minutes after that call.
When I dumped the bucket of water outside the door closed behind me. I could see my purse, my keys and my phone, through the window. I said a quick prayer, hoping God would enlighten my mind as to how I could pick the lock. Instead I realized I was wearing running shoes. Two miles later I knocked on our next door neighbor’s door and asked to use their phone. Ryan came home and took me to the presidential debate party that one of his classmates was throwing. They didn’t mind my red face or the odor that accompanied me.