Possumblog

OW! It's leaking on my leg! And it's HOT!

Obviously, you're concerned that you child--no, wait--make that children--might have suffered harm, but since you're also a rather insensitive soul, you also wonder just how much has gotten on the seat.

YESTERDAY afternoon, running later than necessary and having to get to Grandmom's to pick up the kids, throw some food down them, then get us all to church, and THEN come home to finish homework. Bless Grandmom's heart--she fixed us some baked chicken! "Be careful--it's full of juice, so I put it down in this box lid with a towel under it." And aluminum foil over the top.

Well, no big deal--I mean, what could happen?

Finally got the kids kicked into high gear and trudging toward the car. Backpacks in trunk, Oldest in the front holding a plastic grocery bag with eggs and tomatoes, me holding a cardboard lid with really good-smelling roasted chicken in it.

Hmm.

Hard to drive like that.

"Catherine, can you hold this on the way home?" (She was sitting in the seat by the door.) Head shake no. ::sigh:: "Jonathan! Here, hold this! Be careful, it's hot and it'll leak."

I shut Cat's door, walked around and opened my door, sat down, turned the key, "OW! It's leaking on my leg! And it's HOT!"

"WHAT!?"

Rebecca was giggling--"It's LEAKING! Jonathan moved it and it leaked into the box and he gave it to ME and it's still leaking! And it's HOT!"

Then Catherine--"::snicker:: ME TOO!"

::sigh::

I didn't suppose it was that hot considering they were giggling instead of writhing in agony, so I had to ask the obvious question.

"Did y'all get any of that on the seat?"

"Uh, I don't know--it's on my leg--I don't know."

::sigh::

Got out of the car, opened Rebecca's door, took the now sopping wet box lid and Corningware bowl of chicken from her and tried to figure out what to do with it. Trunk? No. Way. Backpacks and chicken schmaltz do not mix. Well, the Volvo does have those handy hard plastic floor trays that will hold several barrels of liquid. I knew it wouldn't fit in the back, so I walked around and got Ashley to move her feet and I stuck it in the front floorboard.

Home, got everyone out. The three youngest children stood before me on the driveway, each one's legs covered with large wet aromatic stains. Rebecca's went all the way around her leg. Which, obviously, could only mean one thing.

"DAD! Daddy! It DID get on your seat. But just right here. Oh, and there. And some there."

"Y'all go change--we have to go to church tonight."

The biggest spot was on the front edge of the seat. About the size of my outstretched hand, with an auxiliary bit further down. And then a smaller one over underneath where Catherine was sitting. At least I'm pretty confident by this point in her life that it was chicken drainings and not Catherine drainings.

::sigh::

Oh well. Went and got a towel and tried to squeegee up the majority of the liquid, and then went back and got the big box of dry Arm and Hammer carpet cleaner/pet deodorizer powder. Dumped a bunch on there, closed the doors, and locked up.

Supper (which was really good, by the way--the chicken had some kind of Southwestern seasoning on it), church, home, and time to see how much of a mess I had left.

Got the Dustbuster, vacuumed out the loose powder, and was left with 2 1/2 large white areas that looked like the polar ice caps on a sea of blue. And blue corduroy velour, at that. Boy, I sure hope that comes out.

Went and grabbed the stiff brush I use to clean everything and gave a couple of quick strokes, then vacuumed the rest. The result?

NO STAIN! Hooray. Although now it smells like someone dumped a load of perfumed chicken back there. But at least you can't see where.

Afterwards, set the kids to the task of their homework and STARTED TYPING A PAPER FOR OLDEST. Grr. "How long have you known about this!?"

"Since last week, but I was working on my other stuff."

"Which is due....?"

"Friday."

::sigh::Ralph Kramden slow burn::

"Lemme see it."

"Well, this is just the first page--it's got to be two pages and I don't know what else to write."

[kind and gentle Robert Young voice] "Okay, well, you need to go on to your room and get to work and finish it if you want it typed up tonight."

Obviously, my internal monologue was much more like a cross between Yosemite Sam and the Tasmanian Devil. Good thing I'm in such great physical condition, or such annoyances would probably turn me into one giant bulging aneurism.

Thankfully, it was only two pages. More or less. Less. She really needs to learn how to type. Although that doesn't really seem to matter--because I also have to get someone else's paper finished. I typed on that as well. And got in the bed very early. This morning. At about 12:30. Luckily, I got to sleep all the way to 5:30.

Yet, for some reason, I still feel a bit sleepy. Eh, go figure.

In any event, GOOD MORNING!

Posted by Terry Oglesby at August 18, 2005 08:45 AM