Wow, two posts in one day.

I was doing school with Sarah this morning and Patrick went outside to jump on the trampoline. I only did maybe 10 minutes worth of writing when Patrick comes running in covered in what I assumed to be ash from the grill. (He has done that before-played in the grill.)

So I had to stick him in the tub because he was beyond repair. A quick glance outside didn't alert me to anything too terrible. About 30 minutes later Daddy went outside to start some projects (the same projects he's been working on for about a year coughcough) and starts yelling about how cement got everywhere. Um, cement? Yes, somehow Patrick managed to find a bag of cement, open it, and fling it EVERYWHERE in the shed., All of the Christmas decorations were ashy, the tools, the floor was like a cement beach.

So hubby spent the next 3 hours emptying and cleaning the cement off of our belongings while I kept the kids inside (read: out of the way). I put away a load of dishes from the dishwasher and was re-loading it with the few things that had accumulated from the morning when I grabbed a plastic cup that was on its side. I didn't give it a second thought; I had no reason to. I just picked it up carelessly to set it in the washer. Big mistake-this soggy glob of wetness flung in my face;l I was temporarily blinded by this horrible goop from the sink. I had no idea what it was yet, but my mind was playing all kinds of tricks on me-I was picturing festering drain gunk as I was rubbing at my eyes and stumbling around...actually, stumbling backwards...right into a tiny puddle of leftover hot dog water. Which I promptly slipped on and fell into. I still reek of hot dog. Yuck!

For the record-the substance in the cup was unwanted pop-tart.