Fish tank fatality (I blame the Father’s Day barbeque)

dsc02585-1.jpgIt was Father’s Day on Sunday. I have a father, a great one, a funny one, one who has supported pretty well every single thing I’ve ever done (except maybe when I decided not to follow in his footsteps in the law, but hey, he has a journalism degree and look at me! I write! I edit!). Between my sister and I, we decided I should ditch the housecleaning—twist my arm—and come down with the kids.

I made sure the kids had their Father’s Day time with their dad, presents, no cake but he never really liked cake anyway. Then the kids and I piled into the car and headed out to the old hometown. I knew we had to clean the fish tank, Tessa even took photos so I could present an impressive “before” and “after” visual comparison on the blog. But the fish were the last thing on my mind as we rolled out of town.

My youngest sister hosted the barbeque with some big fat grilled shrimp and spareribs. My parents did not know we were coming, so it was a real surprise to Mum and Dad, and I didn’t have to take merciless picking and poking about how we were runing on jackie time—an hour or two behind every scheduled family meeting or event. It was such a lovely evening—thunderstorms, hail, next-door-neighbour kids hitting golf balls with aluminum bats (OOOWWWWWWW!!!!)—that we stayed the night and headed back home yesterday.

With all the excitement of birthday party planning and final dance showcase and work, the fish got fed, but not visited.

This morning: one dead gourami. The largest fishie in the tank, at first I thought he was perfecting a nosestand in one of the plants, but no. He was dead. So, at 5:30 a.m., with a solid two hours of already crammed social responsibilities and household chores, I had to clean the fishtank, alone. One of the loaches flew right out of the tank, flopping and slapping on the kitchen table so frenetically I almost ran screaming into the front yard. I threw at least eight squares of paper towel on him, gathered it all up and threw it back in the tank. It took more time than it took to pick out all that paper towel for the goosebumps to disappear from my arms.

Everyone is back in the tank. Luka hasn’t had a chance to count who’s where, and when he does, it’ll be sad. It has actually been a while since we had a fish go to fish-heaven. I think we’re going to put up a sign like factory floors have, only ours will keep track of the last fish-loss.

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Hey, that almost looks like me!

It’s Works for Me Wednesday, so check in!

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