Ode to Mom’s Bathroom

Last night our A/C stopped working. It was still about five billion degrees outside when it just gave up.  It’s not like we keep it arctic cool up in here.  We set the thermostat at 78 or 79. Here’s the thing, our major appliances, plumbing and vehicles know when the firefighter is away. They take turns falling apart at the most obnoxious moments, then snicker (especially that dang air conditioner, you may think it is just the hiss of condensation, but it is actually the A/C’s stifled laughter) as I stand there with a flashlight, my multi-tool keychain, clinging desperately to my phone while the firefighter tries to walk me through basic home repair.  He says things like “wire”, “socket”, and “Phillips head screw driver” (my mind wanders picturing that poor guy Phillip, with his oddly shaped head) and I say, “Uh huh…” as I Google their meaning.

I did everything he suggested and I called our friend Dug just to make sure I did it all correctly.  Well, dang it, I had. Our air conditioner needed a professional and I couldn’t reconcile spending hundreds of dollars getting it done on a Friday night.  My mom offered to let us stay at her house (she has moved but her house here is for sale). This was such a gracious offer, but all the tiny humans were sleeping and I thought we could make it through the night.  The kids’ rooms face the east and stay pretty cool so with humidifiers and fans their rooms did not get above 81. Our room faces the west and is pretty warm even with the A/C, last night it was 90.   Let’s just say it was a long night.

Our repair guy said he could be at our house around 11 so we went to my mom’s house after breakfast.  There I had the most cleansing, perspective altering experience.  Yep, I took a shower.  See, I was a little crabby this morning (do not ask the firefighter, he will be too happy to corroborate), and a lot smelly after spending a night on the surface of the sun. Blah blah blah…

My mom’s bathroom. Ahhhhh… My mind is floating there now. It’s all soothing earthy colors with pretty tile, a gianormous bath tub, a T.V., and a sound system. It’s like a spa. So spa-like in fact, it has a digital scale.  Why’s that so fancy? you may ask.  Well, our scale is in the garage and it’s one of those Dr’s office scales.  The kind where no matter how gently you step on it the stupid thing creaks, moans and rattles as if your cruel mass might just kill it. I just want to shout, “Get a grip! This is what you were made for!” And then there’s the shower. Separate from the tub. With a seat set in the stone. It has TWO shower heads! Also, no tub toys or half eaten bars of soap (We’ll have to find another method to teach Connor about not saying bad words, that boy loves to eat soap) to trip over.  The boys played sweetly in another room and Amelia napped the whole time.

For some reason my mom’s house isn’t selling as quickly as expected.  I think more should be made of that incredible bathroom…

Ode to Mom’s Bathroom

Oh blessed room whence cleanliness so oft is sought,

with thine soothing colors, and inviting spacious bath,

What, forsooth, would this wretch have been without thee?

Thy double water flow did rid this hag of stench,

And beckoned my love and children to kiss me thence.

Dear my mom’s realtor,

You are welcome.

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