One Friday a few weeks back.
As is the norm for us, Friday is freak worthy. Most every Friday we have an in home tutor come to help out with spelling drills, math and science. On most Fridays my little family spend the morning trying to get ready for the tutor; clearing off the dining room table, sweeping, you know the "company's coming" kind of cleaning. There are books to be found, lunch to be scarfed all with just a moment to spare before the tutor descends upon us.
This particular Friday is no exception. The morning brought one disaster after another. Broken glass shattered across the kitchen floor as the children fought over the "good" cereal, you know the stuff you
never buy. Milk splashes clear across the house. Tears burst forth as the middle child is sure that she will get none of the sugary stuff. Clean up of this mess takes way too long and half of the moring is already over.
After the children are fed, they are sent off to do the morning animal chores. Frantically trying to find clean clothes, I am met with a mountain of dirty things and not one decent clean outfit. So, proceeding through the morning frenzy in my jammie's, I start to pick up the living room, only to be met with the most disgusting odor. Seeking out the source, I move from room to room, shuffling piles to and fro'. Not finding where the vomitrosious smell is coming from.
Upon entering the hallway, the source becomes painfully obvious; both physically and via nasal airways. I plant my foot in the largest pile of nasty, fowl & odiferus dog poop ever known to man. Now mind you, I am NOT dressed to shoes, as the Flylady encourages us to do before starting our morning chores. I choke back my cereal. Swallowing very hard, again and again, I hop to the bathroom at the end of the hall to cleanse the pooh off of my offending appendage. I am gaging and crying the whole way down the length of the hall. Cursing under my breath that the dog
will be shot! Again! (this is a story for another day)
As I near the bathroom I can see water glistening on the tile floor. This causes my blood pressure to rise even more. Hobbling into the bathroom proper, I scan the room for the source of the water. It's the toilet. We have a smallish bathroom so I prop my disgusting foot on the side of the tub, leaning over to see what has obscured the flow to the throne. I find that the pot is full to the brim with Pull-Ups. YES, packed completely full of the most enormously swollen Pull-Ups. Now you can only begin to imagine my state of mind. To say that I was fuming would be an understatement. I am lucky that I didn't have a heart attack. So, turning to wash my foot of its festering mass. I find all of the soap has been dumped out in the bath tub. Let me tell you how beautiful it looked. The entire bottom third of the tub was full of liquid gold. And blue. And pink.
I am considering hanging the kids out by their toenails, to say the least. When.....
The doorbell rings. It is the tutor, his is on time for the first time all year. Can you imagine his nerve? Couldn't the guy see the fumes floating out the windows? Couldn't he smell the poop from miles away? Couldn't he just go home and let me continue clean myself up? And get dressed for crying out loud??
"Hello," he hollers as one of the offending children escort him into the house.
Hell.........O! Indeed.
"The old bomb in the snack trick." 
"The old garbage trick."
"And loving it!"
