I Think it was the Backstroke

 

I Think it was the Backstroke

Noel Laflin

3-6-22

Wondering where I might have set my reading glasses, I start the hunt upstairs – but to no avail.  Sure, there are other pairs scattered about in convenient locations, but it’s a matter of principal, not to mention, pride, that I find the favorite pair.

Downstairs, I wander, and in my search for the missing glasses come across a near-empty roll of toilet paper off the master bath. Checking the cupboard, I find it to be empty of backup reinforcements, thus moving over to the guest bathroom cupboard (which has plenty of toilet paper and for which I intend to steal a few rolls for bathroom number one), but first notice that there’s a spider doing the breast stroke in this toilet.

Grabbing the toilet bowl brush, I rescue the spider, tap her into the trash can – knowing that she’ll soon dry off and climb her way out to freedom once more – but notice that the toilet needs a good brushing as the water calcium ring catches my eye (who needs glasses to notice that?), so I open the cupboard to look for the pumice stick, which will take off the offending water ring, only to be surprised by the numerous extra rolls of toilet paper, which, in turn, reminds me as to why I came to the guest bathroom in the first place. 

So as not to forget the original errand – other than looking for glasses - I take out several rolls as my reminder to restock the other bathroom cupboard. Finally locating the pumice stick, I take care of the water ring, notice the spider making her way over the edge of the trash can, wish her well, grab the rolls of toilet paper set out as my reminder as to why I was there in the first place, return to bathroom number one, restock that cupboard, replenish the near-empty roll, and wander back upstairs, take my chair, and try to read the message recently dinged to my phone, only to wonder where my reading glasses might have wandered off to.

Scratching my head in consternation, I find the glasses firmly perched there all the while.

Consequently (and happily, I might add), I am now able to write of my brief Sunday morning adventure and actually see what I am typing.

And in the process, I saved a spider, cleaned a toilet bowl, and replenished near-empty toilet roll reserves as well.  So there is all that to be proud of, too, I suppose.

If I can remember where I left the good camera, I’ll eventually wander outside and see what needs taken care there, and hopefully remember that the eventually-found camera (which will be hiding, slung across my left shoulder) might actually come in handy.