Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Oh, it's a turkey baster by the toilet.

I found my turkey baster on the floor of our powder room today.

Yet another sentence that I never thought I’d say.

There I was, just having to pee and then it's like, oh, the turkey baster's by the toilet. That's cool.

This job is so incredibly random at times. For instance, when my keys are missing, I don’t look it the usual places. I just assume that they’ve been hijacked by a toddler and I look in the cupboard of the play kitchen. Or the toy box. Or the bathtub.

Good thing it’s not Thanksgiving because I would be scratching my head and yelling throughout my house, “HAS ANYBODY SEEN MOMMY’S TURKEY BASTER?”



I don’t even want to know who put the turkey baster in the powder room. I don’t want to know why. It’s just one of those things that is. And I don’t really have the energy to get to the bottom of this mystery.

But I did take a picture of it exactly as I found it. Perhaps you can relate.

It might not be a turkey baster for you. It might be “Thomas the Tank Engine” underwear in the pantry. Or Legos in the flour jar. Or your brand new bottle of hand lotion in the toy basket.

I don’t want to know what needed basting in the bathroom. The baster is wet, so I am just going to assume that one of my kids wanted to suck the water up in the bulbous red ball at the top, and squirt it out again. And again. And again.

So I just picked it up off the floor, sighed, and continued on my day.

What other job is this interesting?

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