Monday, Monday
Imagine beige carpet. Imagine a shopping bag that contains a large bottle of bright blue dish soap. Now imagine that bag breaking, letting that bottle crash to the carpet less than a foot away from the linoleum kitchen floor. Imagine the impact knocking the cap off the bottle. Don’t bother imagining the ensuing cuss words, the reality is much worse (trust me on this).
Good thing I have a shop vac. But first, I grab a couple of towels and toss them on the mess, stepping on them to help them absorb as much as possible. Once those are tossed into the bathtub for later rinsing, the shop vac comes out.
Now, this apartment doesn’t have a whole lot of elbow room. So I set the vac canister in the hallway, then grab the hose and scoot around the corner to get out of the light. I pour a cup of water onto the stain to dilute the goop, then turn on the vac. I can feel the stuff coming up through the hose. I repeat this process four times over the course of an hour, and am quite pleased with the results. Pleased until I go back around the corner to empty the canister, that is.
Turns out that vacuuming up soap and water makes the canister fill with thick bubbles. Thus, every time I rinsed and repeated, the vac’s innards were lathering. There’s a vent on the back of the machine where air escapes during normal vacuuming. Guess what came out during this little escapade? Happily, bubbles are easy to scoop up with a dustpan.
I hate weeks with two Mondays.
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They have good witches in them. 
