Stick. Stick. Stick.

Yesterday I came home from a day of running around with the girls and I grabbed about 3 more things than I could comfortably hold when I got out of the car to come into the house.  Among those items were 2 half-drunk paper cups of Sprit with lids and straws.

I made it as far as the front door, when I had to juggle everything and reorder it so that I could open the door without setting something down.  Because that would have been far too sensible.  This caused everything in my arms to shift precariously but I managed to open the door and make my way into the kitchen.

I got all the way to the kitchen when one of the cups slipped.  I instinctively clutched it tighter as the paper cup bent, the lid popped off, and a wave of Sprite crashed onto the kitchen counter, rolled down the front of the dishwasher and the cabinets, and formed a puddle on the floor.

Somehow I managed to not wear any of it, and for that I am thankful.

I heaved a sigh and grabbed a wad of paper towels to wipe up the mess.  Then proceeded to unload the groceries from the car and tend to the kids.  All afternoon when I walked across that portion of floor, my shoes made an annoying STICK. STICK. STICK sound.  But I never felt industrious enough to get out a bottle of spray cleaner or a soapy sponge to mop it up.

By bedtime, the Stick. Stick. Stick. was growing faint.  And by this afternoon, there was virtually no remains of the sticky soda.

I’m not entirely sure what this proves.  Either vinyl has more absorption capabilities than I was aware.  Or perhaps it’s my shoes with the superpower absorption capabilities.  Or maybe an angel of light was shining down on me.  All I know is, next time I’m taking two trips.