Scrog in Quarantine Part 3: Spillage

Last night I ordered some wings because I really felt like wings, which reminds me of a wing advisory I'll share on another date, but we're talking about the circumstances surrounding the wings right now.

So I strapped on my makeshift scarf/face mask and headed to the wing shop, retrieved my wings and my combo Coke/Dr. Pepper blend—which may not be as spectacular as Dr. Pepper & Cream Soda, but is still mighty tasty, fyi—and turned back home. Everything was going just as smooth as a freshly waxed vajayjay.

I got home, grabbed everything, trekked up to my apartment. There's a thin handrail right outside my door, and I rested the cup of soda on the corner of it, as I've done a number of times before, in order to unlock my door. It's a precarious spot to place a cup of soda, no doubt, but it rested there without a problem. I got the door open, grabbed the soda cup, went inside.

I then placed the soda cup on the much more safe (or so I thought) wire shelf just inside my door in order to close and lock the door behind me. And then ... well I don't know what exactly took place, but somehow or other the soda cup tumbled off the wire shelf, the plastic lid popped off, and the soda spilled all over my carpet.

I, naturally, let loose with a number of expletives.

After a moment or two of trying hopelessly to somehow make time skip back about 30 seconds like with a podcast, I resigned myself to the situation and leapt into action, running to the kitchen and grabbing another cup and my roll of paper towel.

See this is what I was lamenting the most—the fact that I was now going to be forced to use up a significant portion of the valuable, valuable paper towel I luckily have on hand to clean up this impossibly stupid mess. But what was I to do?

I scooped up all the ice with the other cup and started blotting up the soda. There was just so much. I blotted and blotted. Then blotted some more. I'm not sure how much paper towel I went through—thankfully it wasn't the whole roll—but it was a good bit. It did the job, though, it's cleaned up to the point you probably wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it. Maybe.

The moral of this story is, I'm never putting a cup of anything on that damn wire shelf again. I probably also should start cooking things for myself, but then again this is one of the few things that's making my feel like the world is actually still spinning right now, so I don't know.

I think it's getting to be about time for a nap.