Crapalanche

I should start by explaining about my former job. For two summers in college I cleaned public restrooms for the National Park Service. It was a great job (no joke). I met AJ while working there and I had a great boss. He was fairly meticulous and would check my work on a regular basis by running a finger along the top of the stalls (looking for dust) or by inspecting the plumbing beneath the sinks to ensure that they were shiny and dust free. I liked the job because I had an incredible amount of freedom to wander around a spectacular National Park mingling with visitors and also because I was able to see the immediate results of a job well done.

As a direct result of this job to this day I am super picky about public restrooms. I look to see if they wipe the walls, scrub the grout etc. I can't stand it when people who maintain public restrooms don't put in a little elbow grease because it makes a huge difference. This little anal retentive streak has carried into my own home where I think nothing of spending an hour in the bathroom cleaning all the little things. Is the handle on the door spotless? Light switch wiped off? Top of the shower curtain rod clean? Water spots removed from shower fixtures? And so on and so forth.

I am not, however, anal about any other place in the house. In fact today I was a terrible victim of a crapalanche. It is like an avalanche but instead all your crap that you have piled up falls on you and traps you. I was trapped in my garage. The kids were in the house where I had left them for TWO SECONDS (I SWEAR TWO SECONDS!) to run out to the freezer in the garage to grab some frozen turkey for dinner. We are making chili in case you were wondering.

Once I unburied myself and was able to crawl out and over all the shit back to the door I discovered that the smallest child, who I'm too pissed at to name, locked the door. I was locked out. Bastard.

I found myself banging on the door and begging Lucas to come unlock the door. He did. Sweet angel that he is. And when I opened the door with my hard won frozen turkey, the child that shall remain nameless was standing there laughing at me. LAUGHING. Grrrrrr.

Here is the scene of the incident. Notice the plastic bins on the right? Those fell on me after the giant mound on the other side of the car (which you can't see) also fell on me. I fell down and was literally buried under all of my crap. This is the kind of thing that happens to hoarders right?? They get buried alive in their homes? Yeah.


After some analysis I have decided that the problem is not that I piled things precariously on top of each other it is that I didn't have enough room to pass by the heaping mounds of crap. I made the mistake of bumping into them and causing them to further destabilize, thus falling on me. In the future I will have to leave more room between the car and the crap.