So, you guys remember the Diet Coke that ruined my day last week, right?
It struck again.
OK, this is the point where I'm forced to confess the state of my car. My husband will read this and yell "IT'S DISGUSTING." He won't even sit in my car. Which is good, because there's no room for him.
It's not my fault! You've seen this, right?
|I saw this on Facebook and according to that little logo in the corner, it originated at nickmom.com|
Because that Diet Coke was still there. Yes, it was still there a week later. And because it's Diet Coke, it was still completely full.
I almost just set it on the garage floor to deal with later, but no, I decided to be responsible and take it out to the garbage.
So I took this large, very full, week-old Diet Coke outside, and I opened the lid to the trash can, and I dropped it in. As I was about to let go I thought, wait, I should dump it out, right? Like, in the dirt or something? I mean that's a lot of liquid to dump in the trash can. Plus I think the trash can is empty because it was just trash day so there are no cushy bags of used diapers to break the fall; this thing is going to hit the bottom of the can and splatter.
I thought all these thoughts in the split second before I let go. I leaned forward to confirm that the can was, in fact, empty.
But I lost my grip. I dropped the cup. While I was still poised OVER the can, peering down at the bottom.
It didn't splatter. Splatter doesn't cover it. Not remotely.
It was like...I'd shot a Diet Coke missile. And the missile hit an immovable object at high velocity and backfired STRAIGHT INTO MY STUPID FACE.
It was indescribable. Truly. One second I'm being a responsible adult, tossing my week-old Diet Coke into the trash can instead of leaving it on my garage floor. The next I am drenched in week-old Diet Coke. Diet Coke that has been sitting in my black car, in June, in California, for a week.
Thank goodness I wear glasses. That's all I can say. My glasses were coated in it but my eyes were largely protected. Until it began to drip, that is.
I turned around and went back into the garage, in a state of shock. My poor children. Mommy steps outside for a moment, her usual svelte and together self (ha), and steps back in looking like a swamp monster. My hair was dripping, my shirt splattered in sticky brown goo, my eyes squeezed shut to block out the toxins.
I went inside and spent a few minutes mopping up. Did you know week-old Diet Coke is an effective makeup remover? Ate my foundation right off my face. Mascara was dripping down my cheeks. And my hair. Oh, my hair.
You guys, my kids were already in the car! It was time to go! I took two minutes to rub a wet wash cloth over my face and through my hair, changed my shirt, rinsed my glasses, and...off we go!
So that's why I was late to work this morning.
How much of that story do you think my boss needs to hear?