Toil and Trouble Tuesday: Ew

Be warned, gentle reader, this story doesn’t end well.

My hubby and I decided to share a sub for lunch and were heading to our usual coffee shop to do some work when I started to feel…slightly queasy.

By the time we got our coffee, I couldn’t drink it. When I tried the drink, I almost got sick. I gave up on the coffee and discovered that my lovely hubby was also nauseous. Time to head home.

I made it to the house before being sick. My husband didn’t.

I have no idea what was wrong with that sub. It tasted fine. But it’s going to be a while before I get a hankering for another one.



Toil and Trouble Tuesday: Washing woes

After three years of owning this machine and tossing in the soap with the clothes, yesterday, I discovered this:


A drawer to dispense the soap, bleach and softener.

Enough said.

Toil and Trouble Tuesday: Fridge disaster

When my husband decided to clean the fridge, I foresaw doom. Not that I’m clairvoyant or anything, I just know the man. Cough, Jeep incident, cough.

I tried to stop him but he gets a little stubborn about certain things. Next thing I knew, every item from the fridge was on the granite counter and he was scrubbing at one of the shelves. Hubby wasn’t satisfied with the level of cleanliness he had attained, so he pulled the glass shelf from its plastic cover.

Turns out, glass and granite do not like each other. As in, do not drop a glass shelf on a granite counter. Granite wins every time.

With a soft crack, the glass shelf broke into about a million pieces that, thanks to our open-concept house, scattered everywhere, the kitchen, the dining room, living room and hallway.


First things first, I got our two doggies and their vulnerable paws into my office away from the dangerous glass. Then, while my hubby ran through his entire repertoire of British curse words, I closed the door and planned murder.

Cleaning glass is not fun. It doesn’t clean up easily or well. Hours later, there were still pieces hiding in the grout between tiles, in the cracks by the wall, under furniture. Everywhere. Out came the wet vac, then hubby mopped, then I crawled on my hands and knees looking for any leftover, little shards that would hurt doggie paws.

But, when you’re a writer…revenge is sweet. I told him he’d make a post on the blog. 😀