Capillary Action

Posted on July 25, 2002 in Routine

Disaster. Dis-aster. “Aster” means a star. Dis-aster is not a star. A black hole maybe. A clear puddle in this case.

I worked a little too late last night. It was 3:42 a.m. when I decided to stop flipping through an architectural dictionary in search of a list for Ganesha’s Lexicon and go to sleep. Before I went to bed, I filled the aquarium in the bathroom. I slept in, got up once, to use the toilet..

When I got up for the first time this morning, after Lynn had gone to work, I noticed that the towel we’d left next to the shower was wetter than usual. If I stood on it, my weight left a distinct, moist footprint. I went back to sleep. When I woke up later, around 10:30 a.m., I worked on the computer a bit before I used the bathroom again. The mat was completely soaked. The pile of clothes that I’d dropped when disrobing had sucked up much of the water from the floor, up to its peak at about eight inches. The pants I’d worn yesterday were innudated. The cash and the social security card in my wallet flopped about like overcooked pasta when I took them out to check. I removed the important stuff out of my pants and dumped the load into the wash machine. Then I checked the tank.

The crack runs down the back left corner. There’s a heavy mineral deposit, white tufts of salt snaking down the corner. If I try to fill it again, a wedge-shaped plate will probably pop out.

The remaining water oozed over the floor like a flattened, transparent amoeba. I sopped it up with a few towels and threw them after the mess I’d already dumped in the wash.

If I’ve cleaned up right, reading this account will be the first the Empress learns of our new calamity.