Some days are just meant to be laughed through. Today is proving one of those. Waking up, I was thrilled to see that it wasn’t raining as had been predicted. Checking the weather site I have programmed into my computer, I realized that I had three hours until the storm was due to arrive—plenty of time to get in my mountain run. So, I layered myself in cold weather clothing, complete with gloves and headed out.
Though the air was thick with moisture, the sky was clear. But…about two miles up, I felt the first raindrop, followed not long after by a few more. Then the drops changed and felt suddenly heavy. I realized that as I’d climbed in elevation, the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees and what was now hitting me was ice.
Here I had a choice, turn back or keep going. Despite it being cold out, I was warm in my clothing and decided to keep going. Continuing on another half mile, the ice began driving into me, pinging off my face, already sensitive from the cold. Though they kept fogging up, I had to keep my sunglasses on to block the ice pellets from hitting my eyes.
Continuing to climb in elevation, I was met with more driving ice and then snowflakes. I finally crested the summit and headed back down. Leaving behind the snow, I again came across the driving ice crystals that stung my face followed by a consistent rain. I settled into my run, enjoying the elements. Through out, I had to watch my footing, as the path I was on was steep and mostly clay, which feels like running on a combination of dog messes and slick ice when wet.
Ew!
When I got home, the first thing I did was head to the coffee maker to grab a hot mug, prior to heading to the shower. But I never made it that far. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, something on the floor below the coffee maker caught my attention—lots of water and mounds of soap bubbles!
What the…?
For a second, I paused, completely dumbfounded as to what had happened. But then I recalled just prior to heading out, that I had asked our youngest son to put soap in the dishwasher and turn it on. It was then that I began laughing—hard—realizing what had happened. Unable to locate the regular bottle of liquid dishwasher detergent, which has since been replaced with little cakes that we put in the dispenser, he grabbed the bottle of liquid hand dishwashing soap and filled the reservoir. Satisfied that would clean the dishes—after all, it was for dishes—he turned on the dishwasher and left the room—enter me just at the end of the cycle.
About ten minutes later, we had most of the soap bubbles from within the machine removed and all the ones and water off the floor. Now, the machine is finishing another wash—without any detergent this time—in the hopes that will complete cleaning the mess.
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