I’m not good at transitions, but I am good at disappointing people. So here we go with a new post after Thursday’s extravaganza. An extravaganza that I don’t yet have words to thank you for, but know that your comments made a difference, not just in my life but in the lives of people around this blog.
Anyway, every Friday (except this week), I pose a question to y’all about something I desperately need to know. And there is A LOT so I named the series I ASK to keep you from sending me questions by accident. At the end of the week, I pick one of your answers and the world is saved. Usually.
This week I ask: What do you do after you use the toilet plunger?
I’m not going to go into all our pooping habits (you’re welcome), but let’s imagine that the toilet has gone through some workouts. My kids immediately join me in the excitement of a slowly-filling potty where we all join the WHERE’S THE PLUNGER? WHERE’S THE PLUNGER? chorus and doing that dance where you hop from one foot to the other as though the floor has already flooded with crap. And my adorable dancing yelling children almost always find the plunger first and carry it over to mama USING THE WRONG END.
AAHHHHHHH, DON’T TOUCH!
Oh wait, I still need it.
Okay, nobody MOVE.
Once I get my hands on it (the RIGHT way), I win. In fact, NO TOILET HAS EVER THWARTED ME.
I’m Queen of the Plunger!
But after using the plunger, I find myself standing there with a flushing toilet and the drip drip drip of the offending water.
I look around the bathroom. Shoving it in the sink seems gross, plus there’s toilet paper to contend with and I’m not as good with clogged sinks — remember I am only QUEEN OF THE PLUNGER. And the idea of drip drip dripping to the kitchen sink while trying to avoid the littles running underneath my feet, is overwhelming at best.
Honestly, I just stick it behind the toilet and run away.
I’m not proud.
So I ask: What do you do with your toilet plunger?