Plans don't always go as planned

So yesterday was supposed to begin a super-ridiculous week of awesomeness. Key words: "supposed to."

The reason that said super-ridiculous week of awesomeness (S-RWOA) was to begin yesterday is because Tuesday (March 17) is St. Patrick's Day, otherwise known as Fort Awesome's favorite day out of the whole year since early childhood. Yesterday, March 14 was the date of the local St. Pat's parade. While Fort Awesome has ridden in this parade for the past five or so years, Fort Awesome has never actually seen the damn thing.

So anyway, one of my good buddies from law school was supposed to be coming down for the parade. I haven't seen him since last year's parade, and I was looking forward to the crazy-cool shenanigans that always occur when we get together. We were going to put a couch in the back of his pickup, and watch the parade from that vantage point while drinking beers. It was to be called the First Annual St. Pat's Couch 'N' Keg. Key words: "to be called."

Buddy from law school bailed, because nobody else would make the four and a half hour drive with him. This left me with absolutely no plans, and nobody to watch the parade with. More importantly, I had no place from which to view the parade comfortably. The day before the parade, I learned that my aunt had invited me to her parade party at her house along the route. Game on! Everything was back on track. I excitedly called my aunt to get the details, only to be told that one of my cousin's best friend's brothers was killed the day before, and so the party was cancelled. Obviously, this was very sad news for two reasons: 1) It's always sad when a young life is tragically cut short, and 2) I was definitely going to spend the day at home by myself.

Serious side note: I'm so sorry to hear that news, Nick. My best to your buddy and his family.

So anyway, instead of hanging out with my awesome law school friend or my awesome cousin and his friends, I stayed home going through receipts so I can file my taxes. And paying bills. And doing laundry.

I was actually feeling pretty damn productive, and very much a serious adult. In fact, I had not operated my washing machine in approximately three months. Seriously. I divide my time between two cities, and usually do my laundry in City B. My house is in City A. So it's not totally gross... I have been wearing clean undies and whatnot, in case you were concerned about that. Anyhoo... I tossed all of my towels in the washer and cranked it on. After about a minute of the washer sounding like it definitely held an improperly balanced load, it stopped altogether. Shit.

I decided that all hope was not lost. I could fix the washer. I would fix the washer! I started to reach my hand into the washer, but then I intelligently remembered to turn it off first. Smart move! That's how I got into Mensa! I ended up having to stick my hands into the slimy, soapy, gross towel water in order to unwrap the towels that had coiled around the agitator and prevented it from agitating. After spending several minutes elbow-deep in the slimy soapy water, I believed to have the problem corrected. I turned on the washer, and huzzah!!! It worked!

So while I did not hang with friends or go to my beloved parade, I did have a mostly-organized collection of receipts for the IRS and I had a dryer full of clean, dry, fluffy towels. Additionally, it stormed all day. The first year that I don't ride in that parade, the city has the worst St. Pat's parade weather in around seven years. I am awesome. All in all, I was feeling pretty good about my day.

A couple of hours (and one delicious pizza) later, it was time for bed. As I was using the bathroom, I was reflecting on the pretty-okayness of my day. I smiled. I flushed. I started screaming and jumped into the bathtub.

The toilet began to overflow. Aggressively. We turned off the water, which should have helped. No. The water kept coming. From where- I don't know... It just kept coming and coming, and (horrifically enough) seeped underneath the walls into the half-bath and the walk-in closet. At least there was nothing on the floor. I immediately reached for towels to sop up the torrent of water, but... there were no towels to be found. They were all in the dryer.

Eventually, the water stopped coming out of the toilet. Handy household tip: When this type of catastrophe is happening, DO NOT flush the toilet to "see what will happen." Trust me. You do not want to see what will happen. And just like that- my day of productivity went down the tubes (unlike the water in the toilet). I was standing in my bathroom, surrounded by towels that had been freshly laundered just a few minutes earlier, but were now full of toilet water. Nice. Had I just left them dirty in the first place, I wouldn't have wasted a step.

However, all was not lost. Had I not washed the towels prior to that incident, things might have been worse in one way. Sticking my arms in soapy slimy water would have been definitely grosser had they been dirty because of toilet water. I suppose the universe decided that I needed to learn some kind of lesson, but at least it was kind enough to spare me a little bit of grossness.

Sometimes, I think that I should have my own reality show. Or a cartoon based on my life. Because my life is basically a fucking cartoon. Except that I drink and curse a lot, so it should probably not be the kind of cartoon that comes on Saturday mornings. And Bob Saget should do a voice on it.

While I am still holding out hope for the rest of the week to still be totally Awesometown, I am definitely expecting to have much Fort Awesome material for this blog.