About two years ago was when this happened.
It was about 9PM, and Lynn had already gone to bed about an hour earlier. I was tired too, and planned to watch a little TV and have some pretzel sticks, and then retire.
I went to the pantry to get the bag of pretzels out, and as I was dragging them off the shelf the bag hit a bottle of balsamic vinegar and knocked it off. It fell to the floor of the pantry, and the floor is hard tile, and the bottle was glass, and it was nearly full . . . and . . . CRASH!!!
Yikes . . . what a mess. As I’m sure you know, balsamic vinegar is a brown smelly liquid. So, there was broken glass and about sixteen ounces of smelly brown liquid all over the floor of the pantry. Plus, we keep a plastic bag for empty cans to recycle on the floor of the pantry (no, I’m not an environmental Nazi, but Lynn is), along with some other stuff, and it was all coated in balsamic vinegar. And the puddle of liquid was flowing all over and under stuff.
I saw that I was standing in it, so I realized that I would have to take off my shoes and step in a clean spot in my socks if I didn’t want to track it all over the kitchen. Now imagine me, with my unsteady gait and poor balance (Ataxia/ataxia), trying to untie my sneakers one at a time, and trying to step a foot over into a clean spot. I had to stand on one foot to do that. Standing on TWO feet is a challenge for me, so this was a real circus act.
Somehow I managed to do it without falling down. For a moment I thought about calling out to Lynn, but she was sleeping soundly and I thought that maybe I could handle this myself, so I decided not to wake her up.
When I finally got to a clean spot in my stocking feet, I was so stressed out that I decided to go back into the living room and sit down in my chair and think about this. As I sat there, I thought to myself, “I’m tired, just want a few pretzels, just want to relax a little and watch the end of a movie before going to bed . . . and I really don’t need this.”
When I got up, after about 5 or 10 minutes of agonizing over it, and went back into the kitchen, I saw that the balsamic vinegar puddle had now migrated under a lot of other stuff on the floor of the pantry.
At first I tried to get it with some paper towels, but the effort of bending over and trying to reach into the back of the pantry floor was very exhausting, especially considering my “condition”. So I’d wipe some up and then go sit down in the living room for a few minutes before wiping more. After about a half hour of that routine, I figured that I’d get to bed sometime in about a week, so I had to think about doing something else to clean it up.
I went out into the garage to think about this some more (men do their best thinking in a garage), and while I was out there I saw a sponge mop standing in a corner. Light bulb . . . idea. So I took the sponge mop back in with me and decided to try that. Now imagine me with my unsteadiness, trying to push a mop back into the far reaches of the pantry. With every thrust forward, I darn near fell over, but somehow I managed without falling.
That effort was also exhausting, so I went back to my living room “10 minute break” routine. Mop. break, mop, break . . .
I finally got it cleaned up enough in the pantry, but I now saw that in all these efforts, some of the balsamic vinegar had gotten out onto the kitchen floor (for example, one time it did when I lifted out the bag of cans on the pantry floor and set them down on the kitchen floor - because the bag was dripping and I couldn’t carry it over the carpet into the garage).
So now I saw that I’d have to mop up the entire kitchen floor. Mop, break, mop, break . . .
When I got done, or thought I was done, and the floor dried, I walked over it. I could hear and feel my sneakers sticking to the floor. More mop, break, mop, break . . .
Finally, I had gotten enough done that I thought at least it’s cleaned up mostly. I sat down in the living room, had some pretzels, watched the end of the midnight movie, and went to bed.
Next morning when Lynn got up and went out to the kitchen, I asked her if she noticed anything. She said yes. She noticed that the kitchen floor was cleaner looking, but that it was also sticky and covered in small shards of glass (her shoes stuck and crunched over the floor), and the grout between the tiles was “darker”, and the whole house smelled like vinegar.
I told her the story, she cleaned up the rest of it, and she moved all the glass bottles in the pantry to the bottom shelf and put them at the back of the shelf.
And all I wanted was a few pretzels and to watch the end of a movie and then go to bed. Geeezzzz . . .
Such is the curse of having this lack of coordination disability.