Rent My Husband
The Algorithm Hits a Little Close to Home

The Forecast - Rain

It doesn’t look like rain to me.


Keen has this theory that California gets all the bottom of the barrel weather people. Because, you know, the ones who are at the top of their class at weather school (or whatever) go to the Midwest to study tornadoes, Florida to study hurricanes, ice storms…um, somewhere up north… you know they go where the really juicy weather is. Our weather here is not so interesting. Keen figures us Californians get the slackers… the kids who preferred partying over going to class, maybe a pothead weather guy or two. I can just picture that kid… “Yeah man,” takes a drag off his joint, “I’m totally gonna go study meteorology, man. It’s like the perfect job, dude! You just step outside and take a look around.”

Well, weathermen aside we had our own little flash flood here anyway.

Me and the kiddo are sick with headcolds.  Colds suck. Wednesday morning we felt fine and by that night… well, we weren’t pretty. It especially sucks because we both also just had a touch of the flu last weekend. (I didn’t mention it earlier because it occurred at roughly the same time as my little drunken soiree. And no, it was not the drinking “flu”. I could explain the difference in detail but Keen asked me not to write any more stories about poop.) Is it any coincidence that roughly a week after everyone goes back to school a bout of viruses sweep the Bay Area? I think not.

Thursdays are normally my one day of the week in the office while Chance is at preschool. “Aw, too bad,” everyone says while rolling their eyes, “You have to stay home. I’m hurting for you.” Well, for your edification (and entertainment) here is a slice of a “relaxing” sick day at home.

7:00ish Wake up, coughing on phlegm

7:00 – 8:00 Get kiddo changed, fed, changed again, and settled watching morning shows. Get myself fed, let out cats, sort of kind of half-heartedly straighten up house amid sniffles and coughing. Wipe mine and Chances noses numerous times within this hour.

8:00 – 9:00 Give up being productive, read paper. Notice that Chance has way more energy than I do, given that he is also sick. However, he seems content to hang out and watch his shows.

9:05 Since Chance is so happily involved in his show, I decide to go up and take a quick shower.

9:15 I’m through the primary washing and am moving on to the secondary washing (i.e. exfoliate face, wash hair, etc.). Chance comes into the bathroom and starts chatting me up through the shower door.

9:16 “Hey kiddo, don’t you want to go back downstairs and watch your show?” hint hint hint

9:17 Banging occurs. I stick my head out to see Chance soaking wet all down the front of his clothes. “Chance! Were you playing with the faucet?! Hey, there’s no playing with the faucet! Are you cold? Well, you’re just going to have to wait until I’m done…” Mean mommy!

9:18  Perceive (through lovely opaque bathroom glass) vague shuffling and movement near toilet. “Chance! No playing with the toilet either!” Stick out head…

…time slows… see: empty toilet paper roll, rapidly overflowing toilet, wads of paper swirling in bowl, Chance looking on with intense interest as he becomes, if possible, even more wet…

“Chance NO!” I jump out of shower, plunge hands into toilet and pull out wads of paper. Water stops rising. Crisis averted, or at least shortened. I shut off shower, sort of towel myself off, strip Chance’s sopping clothes off and march him downstairs.

9:19 See drips of water in the living room… splashes in the dining room… large pool in hall gushing from the bathroom and the overflowing sink whose faucet is still on! At this point, for almost the first time ever, Chance’s face assumes a look of guilt and trepidation. Yelling begins.

9:20 Chance is changed into clean clothes and banished to sit in one spot - quietly and do not move! - while I clean up… oh, everything!

10:00 Everything is finally cleaned up. I am dressed. I collapse on the couch near Chance’s quiet sitting spot and grab a tissue for my endlessly dripping nose. Chance runs over, throws his arms wide open, “Big hugs, Mommy!” and wipes his nose across the front of my shirt.   

Because when it rains it pours. (But I’m not bitter.)

I never did get to wash my hair.  – the weirdgirl



I was going to comment on all the nasty illness going around (did you catch the virus from me?) or maybe say something witty about not having anything to write about if you have to exclude poop stories, but after reading your day, I'm just too tired.

hopefully, this will pass quickly for you.


What a great story! I hope you got to work in naptime to recover from your flood clean-up!


Gotta luv kids. It's not every day one gets a chance to dig tp out of the can.

the weirdgirl

Oy! There are some experiences with kids I'd be glad to skip.

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