tiny bubbles...

Here is how today went.

8-3pm: life as usual: cereal, email, Television Without Pity, editing for my Media Bistro class
3pm: pack necessities (two outfits plus alternates, and a few contingency outfits, plus schoolwork, toiletries, meds, special hypo-allergenic dogfood, etc) in a rolley-suitcase, haul dog plus suitcase downtown.
3:30pm: arrive downtown, feel overwhelmed and frustrated by omni-presence of rolley-suitcase in life. call N to complain about the perceived irrationality of maintaining two separate apartments. get put in place by N, who has an office job and must deal with such meltdowns off the clock.
6:00pm: despite grumpiness, agree to stick to original plan of chili and football, with the caveat that N must bring chili ingredients home himself. N agrees, asks if i can run the dishwasher.

i can. but.

i actually NEVER used the dishwasher when i was growing up and never had one as an adult (not yet, anyway), so i am not innately familiar with its mysterious intricacies.

i looked for the dish detergent, but couldn't find any. all N had was a bottle of what looked like Palmolive.

now, I'm pretty sure Palmolive is NOT meant for the dishwasher. Like, seventy-three percent sure. so i call N, but he doesn't answer. i debate waiting until he comes home to run the machine, decide that after my attack of brat this afternoon i'd rather not be seen as lazy, too. decide to run machine with Palmolive.

(i was very savvy about it; only used about half the amount, to be safe).

7:22pm: come downstairs to find kitchen floor SUBMERGED in bubbles in vein of 80's romantic comedy (about people who frolic in kitchens, i suppose).

8:02pm: N comes home, finds me on the ground squeegie-ing up the bubbles with a baking sheet and tossing them onto the patio. somehow resists the urge to suggest that i return to my separate apartment, laughs.

chili-making commences.

9:30pm: chili-eating ensues.

and, scene.