And I thought MY day was bad...

There is mustard on my shirt.  My hair looks crazy from an attempt to distract the little ones by letting them style my hair with a brush, a cooking utensil, and what I later realized was NOT hair detangling spray. 

Connor has figured out the doors in the house...how to open them, how to close them, how to apply enough force to make them echo throughout the house, and how to lock his brother into the sunroom/bedroom/bathroom.  I realized that I need childproof locks on all the cabinets, and that those dishwasher detergent packs make great weapons when hurled at someone's face. 

The phone needs a new home.  It is currently set up where the internet and cable are hooked up in the house...right next to the television.  As I was on the phone with the school bus transportation department, writing down bus route numbers for the older kids, Connor unplugged the phone on me.  He did this repeatedly throughout the day.

The boys have learned that if they stand on a chair in the kitchen, they can reach the dimmer switch for the lamp hanging over the table.  I fully expect to walk in one of these days to find Connor swinging from the chandelier.

I have put up a gate across the laundry room, where the cat food is, because Connor likes to dump the food into the water dish...and then dump it on the cat. 

I discovered, while bringing stuff down to the basement that puddles were gathering on the floor...and a couple of boxes were wet.  I moved them, trying to figure out where the water was coming from, but had to abandon the search as I heard Irelynn scream from upstairs.  I ran up the stairs to find out that the reason for the blood curdling scream was that Owen had the audacity to take a drink from her cup.

Needless to say, by the time Bruce was getting out of work I was ready for a beer.  And silence. 

However, Bruce gets the award for "Worst Day Ever."  I found where the leak was coming from downstairs:  what looks like a drainage pipe had a cap that appeared to not be on all the way...and water was coming out.  Bruce went down to check it out.  The next thing I know, I hear a scream come from the basement.  I run down to find a horrible stench...and Bruce bent over...soaked.

His face was twisted in a look of horror...and he was spitting something out of his mouth.  I look across the floor to find water...and fecal matter...everywhere.  Apparently he twisted the cap, thinking he was going to tighten it...and instead it came off, spewing sewage water all over the floor, and Bruce.  He managed to get it back on, but not before getting covered in, well, shit. 

Today the landlord is sending someone over to take care of it...and then I guess I try to mop the floor down there with some strong cleaner to get rid of the stench that has been wafting up into the rest of the house. 

On a positive note, my day didn't seem quite so bad after seeing my poor husband standing in a pile of poop.  I shall henceforth learn to change my perspective on things...having a "shitty" day has a whole new meaning.