Today is Black Friday. I had two choices. To get up late, lounge around the house til I felt up to cleaning my house from the chaos that ensues every Thanksgiving or pull out my wallet, warm up the credit card and go shopping. I opted early on to clean. The memories of a previous Black Friday where normally nice people became rude and normally rude people turned into wild animals. All this for a discounted flat screen or a talking Muppet. No thanks. I would rather re-load my dishwasher (for the 4th time), vacuum the nut shells from the dining room rug and put away the ‘good china’ til Christmas Eve. It didn’t turn out that way. I fell asleep on the couch watching a DVR’d episode of Survivor that I could have missed since it was a cheap recap show. I woke up at 5:45 am to the sounds of my husband gathering the garbage and recycling we had amassed the day before. I had called 311 earlier and left him a note not to recycle since they wouldn’t be picking up til next week. But he has his routine, and so of course he gathered the recycling before looking at the note. As he noisily made his way from the kitchen, passed the couch I heard my dog pacing in the kitchen. Back and forth, back and forth. His nails on the hardwood floor are always annoying but this was something else. Before my husband actually left the house, I opened one eye and asked what the dog was doing? He said ’nothing, just smelling around cause I moved all the garbage around.’ Ok, I didn’t buy it for a minute, but I was too shot to even sit up. I yelled for the dog to stop, he did and I fell back asleep. I woke up later than I wanted, stiff and hurting from the crappy couch. But the plan was still on…a lazy morning and babysitting in the afternoon for my granddaughter. Coffee with some friends. How plans can change. I got up and made my way to the kitchen which still smelled like my beautifully roasted turkey. I switched on the light and my feet went completely out from under me. I grabbed for both the counter and the stove, reached none and smashed down on my knees. The good one, and the bad one. Now I am presuming both bad. Like something out of a three stooges routine I slipped and slid til was able to stand, bracing myself on the sink. The floor was slick and shiny. Mr. Recycling had taken the greasy aluminum pans and took them out to the recycling pail apparently without bagging or washing them. EVEN THOUGH I TOLD HIM THERE WAS NO RECYCLING! Grease and turkey giblets everywhere. I reached for the paper towels…NONE. I looked under the sink for degreaser…NONE. I grabbed for some dishtowels….NONE. I crept from my perch and got to the bathroom where I pulled the towel from the towel rack and degreased my feet. As I made my way back to the kitchen I could see there was grease from the back door through the dining room and straight through to the front door. I hate him! I was able to find Fantastik, a mop and some more towels before I fell again. I cleaned the floor several times but each time I walked in it was like an ice skating rink. And in a few hours I was going to have my granddaughter who falls normally on the slick floor. So I washed it again. And Again. And then I was ready to tackle the rugs with the rug cleaner. No rug cleaning liquid. So I used super hot water and dishwashing liquid. There is a reason they sell rug cleaner and there is a reason that they can charge a fortune for it. You cant use anything else! Not without dire consequences. There were so many bubbles coming out of the rug machine that I couldn’t tell if I had even gotten to all the grease drippings. I emptied the machine and tried again with no soap…but I guess there was just too much in it the first go around, so it made another zillion bubbles. My grandsons would have had a ball. I hate him!
I realized that I had promised to pick up the candy for our local police precinct’s holiday party. I left the kitchen floor to dry AGAIN, left the bubbles to burst on their own and got dressed as fast as I could. Not very good at rushing, I got to the store and realized I did not have my pocketbook with me. I shopped anyway and told the manager I would be back in fifteen minutes. On my way home to get my bag, which my daughter offered to bring to the Toys R Us parking lot, I realized I hadn’t had breakfast or even a cup of coffee and it was already noon. I went into the Burger King drive thru and ordered a coffee with milk. I got a scalding hot, burn your tongue, sear the flesh off your lips coffee with no milk. I held back tears as I drove to the parking lot to retrieve my bag. Back at the store, the manager had Jose waiting to load my car with the candy. $450 worth of candy. I paid and the non English speaking Jose and I walked to my car. Now if you have read any of my other blogs you will know that I am not a big fan of non-English speaking people living in America. But today, Jose was my hero and he can speak any damn language he wants. We get to my car and there is a disgusting dirty, smelly man (could have been a woman…) sitting on the bumper of my car with one shoe off picking something out from between his toes. I kid you not! I said, ‘excuse me get off my car’ to which he replied, “who the %#*^ do you think you are?” Jose stood waiting holding tons of chocolate Santas. “I asked you nicely to get off my car, I have to put something in the trunk”, I tried again. “Shut up fatso” and continued to pick his toes. Jose moved the Santas to the side and went up to the belligerent toe-picker and in his best broken English told him to get off the car. Toe-picker just smiled. Then Jose said something in Spanish. I have no idea what he said but my shoeless friend got up and walked off mumbling something about me being fat and Jose being short. I asked Jose what he said, but he didn’t understand me…or at least pretended not to. I tipped him after he loaded my car and in English better than mine said, Thank you, have a nice day. Jose, man of mystery!
Next year I am getting up at 3am…gearing up for the crowds and going sale shopping. Today exhausted me!
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