Water Treatment

Sometimes we at the McClure house do our very best to add punctuation to the truth that is the title of this blog.  We're all certifiably crazy, and that's what keeps us from going insane.  Or getting a divorce, whichever.

Friday night Ella was down the hall in her bathroom when she hears us talking in the kitchen as we're getting supper ready.  David says something about how I'm throwing a fit (who, me?) to which Ella yells 'Mama! Do Not Throw Fits!  Daddy doesn't tolerate fit throwing!'  We both get a good little laugh out of that but then I bristle just slightly at being called a fit thrower and possibly make a statement that only David could hear.

David, who at the time was holding a cup of water, made the insinuation that he was going to toss all that water on me, right there in the kitchen, as payment for my surliness.

Being surly has gotten me drenched before, many years ago at our old place in Georgia, when we were busy hosing out the dog pens that were out back.  David made a remark that I didn't care for and I sprayed him like there was no tomorrow.  And then I promptly threw the hose down and ran into the house like a girl.  This didn't deter him, however, and he drug that hose, all eighty billion feet of it, up to the house and stood outside yelling COME OUTSIDE AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!  I didn't, of course, so he got a little surly himself and sprayed me, inside the house, through the open window.  I kid you not. 

I tell you this so that you know what the two of us are capable of and how our minds work.  So you won't be surprised one bit when I say that as I stood there, staring down a man with a large amount of water who is threatening to throw it on me, I knew he wasn't bluffing.  This is going down on my terms, I thought, so I reached forward and knocked some of the water on him.  And then turned and ran like a girl.

Chariots of Fire started playing as I spun around, and in slow motion David threw that whole glass full of water at my back. HIT!  I'VE BEEN HIT! A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that David's coming after me.  But as soon as I turn back around I hear it:  ZZZZZZOOPE! as the rubber traction of David's moccasin-esque shoes hit the puddle of water and his feet go flying.  And as I stop and turn to watch this train wreck, I see a six foot two inch tall man with one leg kicked high in the air and the other giving way as he crumbles and bends and gets squished like a long legged spider in the very narrow, puddle filled hallway.

I don't think I even checked to make sure he was OK before I started laughing so loud and for so long that you would have sworn I was a crazy person. 

It's what keeps me from going insane.