DIY Lottery
One morning, while sitting in our bathroom, I
discovered there were only three sheets of toilet paper left on the roll. At
this peculiar moment in time, I understood that an opportunity, life-changing
in its magnitude, dangled just inches from my fingers. I could curse loudly and
rage against my ungrateful family, who for the millionth time had left me
stranded, or instead, and please forgive the cliché, I could make lemonade from
lemons. Boldly, I chose the lemonade, “Well my goodness Nancy, looks like you’ve
won today’s Toilet Paper Lottery!” A
tickertape parade, complete with marching bands, pranced down the main
street of my mind.
Apparently, it was time for me to reap the
rewards of domesticity, and today’s prize was the much sought after honor of
replacing the toilet paper roll. And,
not only did I get to replace the roll, I also got to choose how to install the
roll—paper away from, or against the wall. Why on earth anyone hangs toilet
paper with the sheets against the wall is beyond me. Clearly the proximity to
the wall makes it much easier to scrape your knuckles and ruin your manicure as
you strain to tug off a few sheets. And so, with
glee in my heart, I grabbed a hold of those few remaining sheets, finished them
off with gusto, and installed a fresh roll of toilet paper, sheet side out.
Voilà, me, who never wins anything, stood triumphant and pumped anticipating my
next conquest.
Experiencing an unparalleled excitement, I skipped
off to see what other riches this new day might reveal. And sure enough, when I
got to the kitchen I saw I’d won the Unload
the Dishwasher Lottery! More fanfare, more tickertape. This feat secured me
the right to put all the ugly mugs with stupid sayings way in the back of the
cabinet, and instead place all my favorite mugs, Wonder Woman, Star Trek and
the chipped one that belonged to my grandmother, up front. I could even, in a
giddy moment of mischief, mix the lunch forks in with the dinner forks.
With an adrenaline rush that had me walking
on air, I went into our bedroom. To my good fortune I saw that the Do the Laundry Lottery was mine for the
taking. Our wash basket overflowed with dirty socks, shirts, and jeans like a
pirate chest sparkling with treasure. I hastily gathered up the few loose doubloons
still scattered about the bedroom floor, and scampered off with my booty. Oh
joy, oh rapture, I murmured as I discovered there were enough dirty clothes for
at least two regular loads and a
gentle cycle. That meant I'd won the bonus laundry lottery of getting to
tediously hang and lay flat all our delicates. Incredulous, I thought to
myself, this day can’t get any better, and then it did!
After starting the laundry, I went into the
living room and beheld hundreds of golden, dog-hair tumbleweeds glistening in
the morning sun. The feathery orbs lolled along the base of every wall, and
congregated in every corner of every room. I was virtually weeping with joy
knowing I’d won the Vacuum Lottery
too! As I reached for the vacuum hose
in the utility closet, it dawned on me that this win also came with a bonus
prize. I had the extra reward of getting to empty the basement canister for our
Whole House Vacuum. And if that's not the ultimate prize for every woman, I
just can’t imagine what would be?
To claim the jackpot, I went downstairs and
positioned myself below this gigantic container hanging from the basement wall.
While encircling the bottom of it with a massive garbage bag, I deftly used my
free pinkies to flip open three fasteners two thirds of the way down the
canister allowing the bottom section to separate from its mother ship. Emptying
this repository of our life’s detritus is so much easier to do with two people,
but clearly today was mine to shine along alone. So, with dust, dog hair and
discarded toenail clippings flying, I thanked God for the overabundant
blessings of my day.
However, looking at the floor, right next to
the bulging bag of yuck I’d just dislodged from the canister, I saw something.
A mouse. It was the size of a small grapefruit, and dead as a door nail in our
JAWS mousetrap. Its massacre was a total buzz kill to this most stellar of
mornings, because A – although I
don’t like mice running around my house, I do feel horrible about killing them,
and B – emptying mouse traps is a
lottery I’m not eligible to win. Being squeamish, I have recused myself from
discharging mouse traps. Therefore, I begrudgingly realized I’d have to share today’s
blazingly hot winning streak with my husband.
In truth, there are very few lotteries I want
to disqualify myself from. Debilitating nausea at the sight of slain rodents has forced me to
draw a firm line at emptying mousetraps. Up till now an equally queasy making
exemption has been the catching of errant snakes. Occasionally, one of these
reptiles slithers its way into our basement, and traditionally, corralling them
has been my husband’s chore. And yet, maybe
with my freshly fueled domestic-life-is-a-lottery outlook, I could learn to
reclaim this particular prize for myself. Perhaps the next time a snake
mistakenly glides its way into our cellar, I could channel the late Steve
Erwin, yell things like "Crykie! She's a beauty!" and pounce upon and
catch the unsuspecting intruder all by myself—oh my God, I can almost hear those
big brass trombones now!
