A little while ago we were staying with some family who had a delightful pomegranate oil with reed diffusers in their bathroom. It smelled so good. Surely something like that could improve our little bathroom. Right?
But I knew it. The kids could never leave it alone. As I was purchasing one, watching the saleswoman scan the UPC code, I knew its days would be numbered sitting on the top of the commode (which by the way is one of my least favorite words in the English language). But such was my desire for a pleasant smelling bathroom that I bought it anyways.
So yesterday it was placed in the bathroom, and proceeded to work its magic. The bathroom was smelling just delightful. Such a lovely combination of pomegranate and mango has never been smelled before in our house. I knew it was too good to last.
And I was right. I knew it. I heard one of the two little mischief-makers fooling around in the bathroom. And I heard some glass fall to the floor. Forgetting that there was a lot of (expensive) oil in said glass container, I ran into the bathroom and... wait for it... I totally bit it in the oil. My feet went up, my rear went down, my head slammed onto the floor. So there I was: bruised and covered in pomegranate mango oil. And now my bathroom? Well it reeks of pomegranate mango oil just about as much as I do. And the floor? Well lets just say that I'm still slipping everywhere.
The moral of the story? I don't think I can have nicely smelling things until my children have left the nest. Sigh. It'll be a while.