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Never a good thing.
Two Sundays ago, right in the midst of Olympic fever, my Canadian ice-hole roommate Greg decided to clean the bathroom. Oh sure, it sounds like a nice Canadian gesture of roommateship. It might have even looked like a selfless act of sacrifice for the sake of the apartment.
It smelled like poison. Bleach, to be precise.
Seriously, Greg used so much bleach in the bathroom that we maybe both suffered a touch of bleach poisoning.
As I sat in the living room, watching, breathing and writing the Olympics, I suddenly caught a whiff of cleaning supplies. “Oh happy day,” I thought to myself, “now I can stop pretending that I mean to clean the bathroom when the Olympics are over, because clearly more than one clean per season is unnecessary.”
So I shout merrily towards the bathroom, “Hey, thanks for cleaning!”
I received a cacophony of hacking wheezing coughs in response, “I think I’ve used too much bleach… *retching sound*”
Greg stumbled into the living room, collapsed on a folding chair (we have really nice furniture) and gasped, “I just needed a break. I might be dying.”
It was only the beginning. As the fumes spread we became light headed, Greg became less and less articulate ( I of course retained my legendary razor-sharp wit), everything started to burn, Greg watched as his fingerprints melted right off his hands, my fingers started to tingle uncomfortably and the edges of my vision got a little fuzzy and black.
It is still hard to decide whether it was hilarious or awful. Probably because my memories are severely clouded by the fact that I was high on bleach fumes. I am leaning towards hilarious.
Between Greg howling, “Half the living room is black!” and myself moaning, “My hands are tingling and I didn’t even scrub the tub,” it was a pretty grim sight.
In his altered state Greg decided that turning on the air conditioner– in February– would be the natural follow-up to opening the windows and switching on the fans. First he unplugged my computer, a major ‘no-no,’ since hello, I was busy being Olympics central. Then as recompense he re-plugged my trusty MacBook and unplugged the power strip. The power strip through which the cable box is powered.
On Olympic Sunday.
I screeched. Then I got up, snatched the cord from him and set about getting the Olympics back.
The cable proceeded to take an eternity to reboot. It did not even appear to be rebooting for far too long a while. I was faced by my greatest fear: a cable outage in the middle of Olympic coverage. What would I do?!
I tweeted through the entire thing. I need to share my rage with the cosmos.
@JohannaAP25 My roommate is trying to poison me with bleach. Everything BURNS!
@JohannaAP25 OMG my IDIOT roommate just PUT THE CABLE OUT on Olympic Sunday.
@gregmendelson @JohannaAP25 Die.
@JohannaAP25 I can’t feel my hands, the cable won’t come back on and the bleach is pervasive. Carnage in 6B.
Then I caved to Greg’s suggestions and tweeted awkwardly at Apolo Ohno due to the bleach issues…
@JohannaAP25 @apoloohno Not so much a question for you, but short track cameraman, what is wrong with you? Why do you always zoom in on Apolo’s crotch?!
In my defense, it was part of a Q&A session that ended up getting derailed anyways. And it is true; during the 1500 meter race something funny was going on with that camera man. It just was. I’m serious.
@JohannaAP25 There. Breaking news SURE to come. / No really, Greg is trying to kill me via bleach poisoning.
@gregmendelson the Olympics are kinda growing on me. My fingers smell like bleach.
@JohannaAP25 @gregmendelson I think I’m still light-headed from the bleach. So if you venture out of your room… & I’m passed out, tell that to the EMT.
Then Greg got violent food poisoning. I still think it was residual bleach death, or maybe karma– but that’s just me.