It’s a lazy Saturday morning. I’m at my sister’s.
Okay, so I used the bathroom. The soap jumped from my hand, did a PLOOP! sound (wow, ploop – I like it, I like the challenge of writing sounds the way they actually sound), and slipped down into the deepest end of the ocean, hahaha. I tried to flush it down but the water rose and it scared the hell out of me. What if I drown in my own *beep*. How do I get that thing out?
Here are my options:
- Close my eyes, stick my hand in and try to reach for that bar of soap in that deep tunnel underneath the water. Nah, that’s too gross. Plus, socializing with the rest of the debris in there isn’t exactly what my goals in life are made of.
- Vacuum-push it with the toilet plunger. But where is their frigging plunger?
- Pretend that nothing happened and hopefully it melts on its own. But that may take a few days.
You know how easily I get sidetracked with things (me and my girly-girl-duh-sometimes-it-can-get-annoying-attention-deficit). I was contemplating on the perfect solution for the toilet problem when I started talking to my sister, then we started viewing her new pictures and then spying on Friendster profiles, then I talked to Aldoy on the phone and then I told myself, “I can blog about this!” and so I started writing this one on her laptop. Here’s the ugly part. I completely forgot about why I was contemplating about it in the first place.
Until I heard my sister scream…from the bathroom.
She “used” the toilet. And flushed. And the water did a Niagara. No, more like Pasig River actually, garbage and all.
Well, soap happens…too.
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