No Sex of Humor For YOU

It’s a rare night when my wife, Elisa, and I make the commitment to shut down early and have a QT [quality time] date night, just the two of us at home–no Netflix, no books, no distractions. We always promise to be better, but our schedules clash, we get busy and, and like many couples, time slips away.

Just a week or so ago, we finally make the time. Candles are lit, Tracy Chapman radio on Pandora (my new fave), we’re face-to-face sweet talkin, of the sweetest kind–in my opinion–where we sing to each other, laugh with abandon, and whisper about how rich we are in companionship.

We talk for more than an hour about nothing and everything, like we forget we still can after seven years–there’s still more to say.

Words tumble into soft kisses as clothes are slowly being shed.

Just as hot is promising to get heavy, it happened.

Our littlest, Josie.

Right outside the bedroom door …

Barfs.

She hurls the entire can of tuna water right there on the floor, whole bits of kibble swimming in the murky puddle.

I’m screaming …

running around in frantic circles naked.

Elisa’s up. Eyes wide. Also stark naked.

The dumb kittens are nose in the mess, debating if they should just lap it up quickly while their humans run about wildly, screaming.

Now, with plan in tact, I’m low and intimate with the mess, shooing away kittens, scooping with a dust pan the slop–still naked.

Elisa from a distance is wadding up toilet paper to gently place on top, “she doesn’t want to touch it,” she says.

I’m so focused flushing the goop down the toilet, I don’t notice the heaping wad Elisa has collected in her hands in an effort to keep her distance.

The toilet is teeming with paper nearly to the brim when Elisa reaches for the handle.

I see it, but it doesn’t register until it’s too late.

The water’s rising. The paper’s rising. NOOOOOOO!

Thankfully, it stops a single millimeter below the brim.

We shut the lid in hopes it will figure itself out. We scrub like doctors, to the elbows. With no choice otherwise, I shi-shi in the tub.

We look to the room where the candle is still lit, Tracy Chapman radio never missed a beat, and two adorable kittens are nestled where the sheets and ruffled covers meet the pillows.

Thank goodness we have a sense of humor, because clearly the mood went out with the tuna water.

We shoo away the varmants, get back in bed, and start right back where we began: singing to each other, laughing with abandon, and whispering about how rich we are in companionship, kittens and all.

The next morning, the wad had been sucked deep into the bowl, I am sure we were in the clear. I shi-shi and flush without fret.

Inch-by-inch it creeps, until clear liquid spills over the tank, stopping only when the flush finishes the cycle.

Fuck!

It’s 6 AM, I’m screaming. Elisa’s not budging from bed. Two curious helpers are right at my feet, on cue.

“Go! Shoo! Go! Jesus Christ, babe! Are you kidding me right now?”

She barely flinches.

With no plunger and a failed attempt to stir it all up with the butt end of the toilet brush, I give up. I lay two towels to absorb the hideous mess, shut the door and leave for work.

Two hours later, Elisa is texting pics of the three of them still snuggled in bed, oblivious. I call to see if she’s gotten in touch with the Super.

“Nope. We haven’t moved. We were scared to get up, and all of us have to shi-shi!”

It’s not long before I arrive back at the apartment with borrowed plunger, feet squishing on soaked towels, shaking my head.

A few minutes later, the line is clear, the tiles are cleaner than they’ve been in months, and the soaked towels are hanging on the fire escape to air out before laundry day.

And how could I be upset? Elisa’s singing in the kitchen, making breakfast.

I can’t be mad. I’m not frustrated. This is life. This is love. This is family.

This is kinda funny, actually.

This is–I couldn’t get it out of my head all night–no sex for you!

I leave you with this: When is the last time humor saved your catastrophe?

#Onward

Much Love,

kat hurley


Your feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Originally published at kathurley.com on March 24, 2016.

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