At the risk of looking like Lucy Ricardo

OK, this is just one of those things that I should probably keep to myself but won't.

There are some days when it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

The only purpose for these mornings is as writing fodder (and you can count on seeing the following incident in an upcoming short story).

I have plans for the next couple evenings, and we have a signing I want to look good for on Saturday. SO, I got up early this morning, canceled my exercise plans and set about coloring my hair. Simple enough, right?

WRONG!!!

I get started. Everything's fine. I go to the shower to rinse out the goop and...

The drain plugs. Completely. (INSERT SWEARING HERE).

I climb out, begin toweling off and...

The cat blasts into the bathroom at a full run and DIVES INTO THE TUB filled with (probably toxic) hair goop.

I DIVE to slam the door shut so that the (now traumatized) cat can't escape, GRAB the traumatized pussycat (folks, I don't recommend doing this naked -- REALLY), and carry him clawing and screaming over to the sink where I commence to rinse the toxic goop off of his wildly squirming body. (Trust me, he LOVED that).

Let the cat out of the bathroom. Pull on some clothes and leave, making ABSOLUTELY SURE that the bathroom door is shut and latched so that I can safely go to the store for drain stuff.

They're out.

OK. Finally get drain goop, go back home.

THE FRIGGING DOOR IS OPEN.

Shrieks ensue. My son rousts from a sound sleep to help me gather and check pussycats. BELLY crawls under beds to check all three cats -- are they fine? Are they wet? SH**!!! (they are all three completely dry Thank GOD)

Go back to the bedroom and tend to the drain.

AND ALL THIS BEFORE I CAN GET READY FOR WORK!!!