The Ramblings of a Confused Fish

Detergent and Discord

When asked what I wanted to be growing up, I would always answer the same way.

"I want to be an inventor! I want to help people."

Now this absolutely delighted my family. An accomplished and motivated engineer! What an addition to the family. Little did they know how my growing interest would manifest.

I would draw diagrams of drink and water dispensers on paper with phone numbers and important information. Then I would grab cardboard boxes and get to work. I was a child possessed. A mess would always be made, but I was always forced to clean it up myself (thanks to that habit, I am a neat freak). When my little sister could walk and move efficiently (to her misfortune), she was forced to join my efforts. None of my efforts paid off, but that never deterred me. I would be back again with a bigger plan and a harder project.

My sister had a princess castle that had a closet. If you pressed a button, it would open a hatch, dropping whatever was in the closet down outside of the castle. One day, while she wasn't around, I took some pomegranate seeds and a small cup. My logic was if I pressed the button hard enough when I put the seeds under where the flap would hit, it would press the juice out of the seed and into my cup. My logic was flawed and it was extremely unsanitary. It barely worked. A core memory was formed that day. Now keep in mind, my parents and grandparents were watching tv as this happened, and they only stopped me upon seeing the seemingly bloodlike splatters on the ground and my shirt.

What does any of that have to do with detergent? Now you know, we had a family computer. I would watch craft videos all the time, corrupting our recommendations. This time, I saw someone cut off the top of a detergent bottle for some craft or another. I have no idea what it was. I was hooked.

I ran to my grandma and I asked for an empty detergent bottle. She was severely bewildered, but she obliged. She always went along with my schemes, even if she shouldn't have.

I gleefully snatched the kitchen scissors off the countertop where my grandma put them after preparing some chicken.

Imagine the joy on my face as I waved an empty detergent bottle and scissors that smelled vaguely like raw meat at my grandma and asked her to cut it up for me. Now this is where I stop remembering and I had to ask the other party involved how this story ended. Don't worry, I didn't hurt myself with scissors if that's where you think I'm going with this.

Allegedly, she refused, and I got sad. But then she asked me to help her wash some vegetables so she could put the detergent bottle for recycling without me noticing. All was forgotten when my dad walked through the door and I proclaimed my helpfulness for the heavens and all living beings to hear (I was a loud kid).

Grandma: 1

Me: 0