Short Stories

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OK, got the kitchen floor moped this morning. That is my least favorite housecleaning task and I am not sure why. While I was in Iowa Mick fed the cats on the wood floor instead of the utility room. Probably because he doesn’t mop the wood floors and hadn’t a clue, BUT they done. First I dust, then I vacuum, then I mop with special solution recommended by the wood floor guys and mop again on the bad spots.

The dish washer was washing. The clothes washer was washing. I had a couple lunches put together for Mick except the hard boiled eggs. Had those on top of the stove boiling (at 8600 feet it takes awhile),I set the timer and went in to check e-mail and various writing websites.

Oh, my Teresa is actually back and in communication again AND wrote a new piece. Then there is the one about Michelle AND I am helping a friend edit a novel she is writing and I got started on chapter 16 of that – whoa she changed many things and this is a really good read! Several people wrote back about my comments and some are reading my new pieces. Man there are a lot of new pieces today…..

And all four cats were plunked, asleep on the master bed right next to the kitchen….

I decided to go peek at the wash and left the computer room opening the door – you might ask why the door is closed. I have one remaining plant and it is sequestered in the computer room away from the cats who munch anything that is green. I have mercy on the remaining plant.

Whew, what is that acrid smell? Oh, my goodness, the EGGS!

I ran to the kitchen to see that pot boiled dry – grabbed it and ran to the sink to turn the water on – what I didn’t notice was that the eggs had already blows up all over the stove, cupboards, countertops and underneath the wall mounted microwave. I quickly doused the pan and remaining eggs in water and there was another explosion and egg blew up in my face, on the wooden blinds, all over the clean hickory floors and into the window sill and mechanism of the slider.

Yes, I am ok. Well, when I went into the mirror I found egg in my hair in two places.

And I cleaned, floors, counter tops, walls, tile are you getting a visual? It smells in here too – nothing quite like scorched boiled (dry) eggs. It is 44 outside and I am opening windows, turning on ceiling fans and exhaust fans.

Is there a moral to this story? Oh, yah, writing for Faithwriters can be an exciting albeit explosive proposition. And here I am back online again….

GRIN.

(C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with proper credits.

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