For the past week, when I’ve walked past a certain point in my kitchen I’ve smelled bleach.  For the first five days, I tried to convince others that they smelled it, too.  They didn’t.  Then, two days ago Matt finally smelled it too.  We didn’t figure out what was causing it, but at least I didn’t feel crazy.

Tonight when I went to pour myself a glass of milk, I noticed a giant puddle on the floor.  I called Matt in to investigate, hoping that it was merely spillage from the dishwashing he’d just finished.  It was definitely coming from under the sink.  Upon further inspection Matt determined it wasn’t coming from the pipes.  It was coming from a bottle of bleach solution I’d used to clean the grout in the bathroom.  It was flowing out of the spout like a faucet.

Matt:  “I want you to know that I’m blaming this on you.”

Shannon:  “How could you possibly blame this on me?”

Matt:  “Well, you obviously created a vacuum.”

Shannon:  “How could I possibly have created a vacuum inside a spray bottle?”

Matt:  “I don’t know, but I’m blaming it on you anyway.”

On the upside, the bottom of the cabinet and the kitchen floor in front of it are really, REALLY clean.