who wants to go swimming?

You're not going to freaking believe this.  I was sitting out in the "office" (aka: a corner of the garage where Hubbs has been reduced to working since 700 children took over my house) last night just perusing the inter-clubs and noticed it was around 10:00.  Since my butt was numb from sitting so long, I thought I should maybe just head up to bed and call it a night.  Nothing productive going on around here anyway. Hubbs must have had the same idea since he just headed in the house too.

Suddenly he appears, eyes as wide as errr... Canadian Bacon and yells "get up! we have a flood!"

"FREAKING A, WHAT?!?!" (or something similar)... followed by "WHAT THE SHIT?"  and "Well for FUCK'S SAKE" seemed to be the only help I had to offer.   (See there, I got in all my favorite expletives right away for you.  Now that's over.) 

Long story short... we spent the next two and a half hours dirtying every damn clean towel (which I had finally just washed) in the house mopping up toilet water and whatever else I do NOT want to think about.  The mess is still huge and I really don't even want to talk about it, okay?  I'm just not ready yet.

My favorite part of the evening, which I have saved for last just for you, was the moment my darling Hubbs looked at me with a rich snub of disgust on his face and asked, "Well, who was the last person in this bathroom?

Nothing, and I do mean no. thing.  gave me more evil satisfaction than to look him square in the Canadian Bacons and reply, "Ummm... YOU!"

*I mean who else has the power to clog a toilet to the point it floods our whole downstairs?*