Where I Talk About Pee and Overdue Books

I spent a good portion of yesterday scrubbing (on my hands and knees with a sturdy brush) all of the floors in my house. Because really, what better way is there to spend a Tuesday than arm deep in a bucket of Mr. Clean?

While I love the sight of my spotless floors and the clean smell that has permeated the entire house, my hands are still looking a little rough. To date, I have been unable to locate a durable pair of gloves that will fit my child-sized hands. They are either too big and flop off the ends of my fingers, rendering all ten digits virtually useless, or they tear within minutes, resulting in an angry Mrs. Ha.

Such is the life of a domestic goddess.

I joke, but my floors were long overdue for a good scouring. The worst offender was the bathroom that my precious son frequents. There isn't a surface in that bathroom that hasn't been the target of his bad aim. The child can shoot a tin can using his BB gun from one hundred feet away, but is unable to hit the toilet bowl directly in front of him.

I somehow expect more from the boy who refuses to use the bathroom at school because, "It is too disgusting. The kids pee everywhere." The irony is not lost on me. I keep reminding myself that within a few years, the boy can be put on permanent bathroom duty.

I am certain that there is a specialized kryptonite hidden in the walls of our bathrooms. It seems to render all males useless when it comes to noticing a faulty stream or dribble of urine. Come to think of it, maybe that's the reason that no one else is able to replace an empty roll of toilet paper... Clearly further studies need to be conducted.

As a result, I have considered wearing Depends when I go to bed at night. In addition to being incredibly annoyed if I actually wake up and have to pee, I am further aggravated by the need to turn on the light and inspect the toilet seat for any stray drops. Nothing makes me more upset than sitting down on a damp seat.

While I was scrubbing, I received no less than eight calls from my local library informing me that I have an overdue book. I have a bad history with our library and was immediately irritated.

In the course of the past week, I have received four emails from the library informing me of various activities that will be going on in the upcoming weeks. Apparently Miss Rodeo TN will be the celebrity reader during story time tomorrow and if I hurry, I can still attend the Finding a Job While in High School seminar. Space is limited.

Despite my repeated efforts to sign up to receive an email reminding me that my books are due within a few days, I have yet to be notified. Each time I am told that they "have me in the system and aren't sure what the problem is." They then suggest that I set up the notification through my son's account, on which I had to co-sign. "Does he have an email address?"

It usually takes all the self-control that I can muster to avoid screaming, "Yeah, lady. I'm sure that would solve the problem. My eight-year-old would be sure to either tell me that my book is due or simply hop in the car and return it himself. Thanks for the suggestion... it sounds fail proof."

Instead I pay my fine, and like Elaine and Putty, decide to continue my relationship with the dreaded public library.

I don't have a problem.

I can break it off if I want to.