Saturday, January 15, 2011
never clean your fish late at night
My husband had been bugging me to clean the fish bowl for days. I always had something or nothing I would rather be doing than that task. Late Thursday night I had this little burst of energy about 11:30, (that should have been my first warning) and I came upstairs from the computer and started cleaning the kitchen up. I had baked cookies earlier in the day and cleaned up most of my mess, but there always seem to be some that you miss. When I finished and was satisfied with the kitchen I saw the fish bottle. Mr Coffee, the beta fish, is in a large jug leftover from something I don't recall anymore. We got Mr Coffee for our foreign exchange student a couple of years ago. When he left we inherited him. He got his name Mr Coffee one day when his bowl was sitting by the coffee pot, a Mister Coffee, and he would just float and stare at the coffee maker, hence the name Mr Coffee.
I put Mr Coffee in a glass and proceeded to clean the jug. It is not a hard job, I swirl the little pieces of colored gravel around in the jug and it takes all the scum off the sides of the bottle, Rinse it out with fresh water a few times and your done. The hardest part is to get the fish out safely and into the glass while I clean the jug. Many a time Mr Coffee has missed the glass and landed in the sink. How he has lasted this long I don't know. Well this time I got his jug all shiny and sparkly, and was so proud of myself, thinking when Joe gets up in the morning the first thing he will see is the fish jug, all clean. As I pick up the jug to put back in his place of honor on the kitchen counter, the jug just barely tapped the cast iron sink. I heard a ping! Not a good sound. A hole about the size of a half dollar appears instantly and water floods out of the hole. It all happens so fast I don't even have time to react. When I realize what happened I tilt the jug sideways to stop the flow of water. Where is the FISH? I am standing in my stocking feet, water all over the kitchen floor, water all over the counter and gravel in the sink, counters and floor. Where is the FISH! I begin to panic, afraid if I move my feet I will step on it or slip. He is not in the sink, not on the counter, omg, he is laying there, on the floor, not flopping not doing anything. My first thought was I finally killed him. Poor fish. Have you ever tried scooping up a slimy, wet,little, fish off the floor in a puddle of water. I do not recommend it. I managed to get him off the floor. I think he had started to stick by now. It seemed like forever since the jug sprung a leak. The only water I had for poor Mr. Coffee now was a little left in the gallon milk jug that I use to put water in for a few days before I changing his water. Poor fish, after being scooped up from the floor and manhandled, he gets dropped into a gallon jug of water with only a couple inches of water left in it. Oh, I forgot to mention that when I finally saw the fish on the floor I still had the glass jug in my hand holding it sideways to stop the flow of water. When I see the fish on the floor I immediately sat the jug with the hole upright on the counter to let go of it. What water and gravel that was left in the jug spilled out all over the counter and floor, again. Well at least Mr Coffee was safe in the milk jug. It took 2 large bath towels to suck up all the water. The gravel stuck to the towels and fell all over the kitchen when I picked up the towels. I had to walk away for a while. That was a good thing, because it was much easier to clean up after the water had been soaked up by the towels and I knew to slowly shake the gravel off the towels.
Of course I didn't remember where I had put the old fish bowl. I looked around for a while and gave up. I found a glass in my hutch that I thought would work, at least for a few days and poured the fish into it. The next day, Mr. Coffee looked pretty good considering what he had been through. In fact, I think he likes his new home better than the big jug. At least I didn't kill him. I didn't mention that during all of this my husband, Joe, was sleeping in the recliner, just a few feet from all the commotion. I told him it was a good thing he didn't wake up. I was not in the mood to be told how to clean up that mess. I think I would have blown. As it was, I calmly went about cleaning up my mess. No Help Wanted. That was my Thursday night, how was yours?