The Secret Exploits of a SAHM – Chapter Five – My Cups Runneth Over

10 Jul

MY CUPS RUNNETH OVER

By D.M. Wright

 

“Uh-ohhhhh!”

Two words I never like to hear. I wait and listen. Usually these words are preceded by a crash or a thump. Not this time. This time it is followed by the all too familiar sound of water hitting the floor endlessly from the toilet.

“Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit!” I whisper. I hate this mess. Anything but this mess. Panic rises within me. I can never figure out how to stop it.

I go into the bathroom. The guilty mice have already scattered. I start throwing towels on the floor. I open the tank and fiddle with the chain and the stopper. I pull on a little stick thingy and it results in spraying water all over me. I gasp and put it back where it was, sputtering. It might as well be the inner workings of the human brain.

No amount of fiddling makes it stop running. A call to the husband would result in further humiliation and degradation so that’s not going to happen. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. One of the boy’s little friends, I am sure. I hear the boys attending to it. Good. I am too busy sopping up water with the legs of my jeans and all the fiddling! How did I get water on my face?!  Oh my God! What am I going to do!? Plumber. No, wait. That will leave a money trail.

“You look like you need some help.” A deep voice says from the doorway.

It’s the downstairs nice neighbor man. “Oh my God, yes, please, help me!” I exclaim. “It’s the boys…they’re monsters. They clogged it somehow. Dear God, I haven’t even noticed if there is shit floating around!” I glance around, much too late for me if there was.

“No, it looks like it’s all water.” He rolls up his pant legs and sleeves and dives under the toilet. In a moment he has stopped the overflowing toilet.

I burst into tears. “How did you do that?” I blubber. “I have been fiddling with it forever!”

He points to something behind the toilet near the floor, “See this knob here?”

I bend over towards him to look. “Yes,” I sniff. Oh! What is he wearing? He smells heavenly. Like clean and…and man scent. I sniff again. No, sir. I would not kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Oh my God, I am my mother again. Who eats crackers in bed? For the love…

“And that is all there is to it.” He smiles gently.

Shit! I missed what he said. I will never be able to stop an overflowing toilet!

“Thank you so much.” I smile and wipe away the tears.

“Now let me see if I can get this thing un-clogged for you…” he reaches around me for the plunger.

I panic and turn and bump right into him. “Sorry, let me get out-of-the-way,” I blush and splash over to the other side of the bathroom.

He plunges and plunges but that water is not going down. He gets down on his knees and reaches around to the back of the toilet again. Oh my! He does not have a plumber’s butt or crack. Why is my heart rate elevating?

I turn and grab into the linen closet for more towels. Why don’t we have a wet vac? You would think since this is the umpteenth time the toilet has been clogged, we would purchase one. I think I shall remedy that this afternoon.

“I am going to run down and get some tools,” he grabs a dry towel from my arms and lays it on the floor to wipe his feet. He looks back at me and winks and leaves my house.

Boy is my face red. I shake my head and lay down the rest of the towels to soak up the mess.

“Mommy?” I hear a little whisper.

My head whips around so fast it almost makes the cracking sound effect, complete with the evil eyed look. He disappears and I hear running footsteps fading down the hall. I glance in the mirror and notice that my shirt is completely soaked. Quickly I lift it up over my head to change before Mr. Non-Plumber Butt comes back. My hair gets stuck in the zipper on the back of the shirt. I don’t remember there being a zipper on the back of my shirt! My arms get stuck in the shirt. Panicking again, I try to move out of the bathroom and into my adjoining bedroom; bumping into walls and counters; slipping in the water on the floor. I crack my big toe on the little wooden magazine rack.

“OWWW!” I cry out, but it is muffled since I am still stuck inside the shirt, flailing around and now hopping on one foot.

“I am going to start charging you for my time to get you out of sticky situations.” He says, trying to stifle a laugh.

I. Am. Mortified. I quickly think back to getting dressed this morning. What bra do I have on? Do I have one on?! Oh, dear God, please let me be wearing a bra!!

“Hold still. I will get you out of there.” I feel his hands and fingers reaching the back of my neck and into my hair to untangle it from the zipper. Oh my. Hot breath on my shoulder. Oh no. Goose bumps. Gulp.

Suddenly I am free and my shirt is off. “There you go,” He says.

“Thanks,” I whisper and stare at him, holding my shirt over myself.

“I will let you change,” he smiles. “I’ve got a toilet to un-clog!”

He goes back into the bathroom and shuts the door.

“Yikes,” I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

——

“Aha! Here is the culprit!” He grins and holds up a Bakugan. “It must have opened up in the pipe and got stuck.”

“I told you they were monsters,” I look at him helplessly. “At times they are out of control.” I stare at my hands. “I cannot begin to express my gratitude to you for helping me.”

“Hey, what are neighbors for?” He smiles. He looks so handsome, even with his jeans rolled up to his knees and covered in wet spots.

“Why did you come upstairs in the first place?” I smile back. “Did you need something?”

He grins, “I could hear you through the thin walls and ceiling, screaming and sputtering. And I could hear the water overflowing. I didn’t want it to start coming through the ceiling so I decided to come help.”

“Oh gosh! I didn’t even think about it coming through down to you! That would have been terrible!” I cover my face with my hands. “I am glad you were home to help. I don’t know what I would have done!”

“Well, it’s almost quitting time. What time does your husband get home?” He asks. “He would have saved you, I’m sure.”

I pale. “Sure, he would.” I smile and swallow. “But he gets home late.” I tuck hair behind my ear. “I wish I could repay you somehow.” I led him out of the bathroom. “Hey, have you eaten? I have made plenty of food for dinner. Eat with us?” I suggest hopefully. Suddenly, I don’t want this man to leave.

“You know, that sounds great,” he looks down at himself. “Let me go clean up and I will be back in, say, an hour?”

“Perfect!” I grin.

“Until then,” he grins back and takes his tools to the door. “Try to stay out of trouble until I return.” A wink and then he is gone.

I stand staring at the door. What did I just do?

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