So much to my displeasure, as I was reading my older son stories the other night I looked up to notice his fishtank looking rather..murky. Without cluing him in, I looked closer to realize all its inhabitants were floating. Being the mother of the year that I am I bet it had been days since they had met their demise. I was wracked with guilt so of course the only option was to put off cleaning up the mess and breaking the news as long as humanly possible. Well, that day was today. I strapped a handkerchief from my days as an adolescent chola over my nose and mouth and went in, balanced on my mom's stepstool, armed with latex gloves and a sand toy as a scoop. I had some trouble getting the five inch long blue lobster in, and in my struggle sent it careening over he edge, whizzing past my face onto the floor in a blaze of putrified crustacean glory. I maneuvered him and his snail friends into a gallon ziplock bag and out into the outside garbage can. The fish got a traditional burial at sea in the toilet... I had neglected to flush it from my midnight tinkle... Not the most dignified way to go out. During my two hour stint I transferred enough water out of the tank into a bucket which I dumped in the bathroom sink so that I could finally manage to carry its 15 gallons of doom down the stairs and out the back door. The smell could curdle your blood and peel paint. Some things are not better saved until later. No time to shower before school. Keepin it classy.
