CLUMPS OF ALL KINDS GOOD

Yesterday evening I made the mistake of telling my apartment mate that the bathtub was not draining, and that I would have to ladle out toxic liquid before heading out for a weekly meet-up with a friend.
The bathtub has been plugged for a few days (probably just hairballs), and I had poured a declogger into the hole around dinner time.
It didn't work. Worse, faucet drip put in a bottom of water.

My apartment mate is eloquent, and has an active imagination.

"Be careful, it's caustic. And how am I going to bathe?"

'I'll make sure the tub is clean and safe before I leave tonight.'

"I can see it now, I'll cautiously dip in my foot, and it will come out with the flesh peeling off, smelling of sulfur and Naugahyde!"

'Huh, what? No, I'll get everything out, don't worry'.

"I'll just have to go into work all stinky and explain that I can't bathe because our tub eats people, how do you think we got rid of all the bodies, hah?? We're destined to smell worse with each passing day, come hot weather the cheesy stink will be unendurable, except for you because no one really cares how you smell, you're a smoker and eat all the funky sh*t, but anyway what about me? My social life, not that I actually have one, will be ruined! I'll pong like that hunk of Gorgonzola you brought to parties!
We're doomed!"

It actually wasn't Gorgonzola, but something Danish. And what she was referring to was a ball of fromage that at the end of one get-together had stayed with the hostess, who at the next event ceremoniously handed it back to me wrapped in several layers of plastic because it reeked so much worse than a few months previously.

Naturally, I gave it back to her -- with another two or three more layers of plastic, because it was liquefying -- at the earliest celebratory opportunity. At each party, the growing threat was passed back and forth. The last time she gave it back to me was at the farewell party before she moved to Chicago. There was no room for it in the boxes.
I kept it for another year, till I had found out her address.
Then I mailed it to her, labelled "chocolate".
Return address: her mom.

Good thing she never found out where I had moved to by then. We've been out of touch for eons now. Surely she finally dumped it.
Maybe on an ex girlfriend or something.



Sulfur and Naugahyde? Where the heck did my apartment mate pull that one from? I am flabberghasted by what comes out of her mind.


Anyhow, I rinsed out the tub thoroughly, three changes of hot water, and scrubbed down the sides. In a little while I'll know if she's clean.
Or otherwise.



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