I get exactly what I
deserve for buying a cheap-ass lunch tote: damp butt.
For some reason (exhaustion,
probably) I forget to put the cold packs for my lunch back into the freezer the
night before. No biggie. I always have extra ice ready, so I grab out
one of the semi-filled, zip-top baggies with ice in it, toss the bag of ice
into the bottom of my lunch tote, throw in my sandwich, and go.
I don’t always go to the
teachers’ room for lunch mainly because it’s too damn far to walk in the
less-than-eighteen minutes I have to eat, but also because that part of the
school is ridiculously cold. Today,
though, I decide to eat with the adults, so I grab my lunch tote and make the
arduous trek.
Everything is going fine
in the teacher’s room until I notice that my left arm, resting on the table and
protected by a bulky sweater, is sopping wet.
I pick up my lunch bag, and there is a huge puddle under it. Realizing the ice is melting, I grab the tote and bag
of ice out and carry it to the sink, leaving a trail of water behind me. I shake out any leftover water from my lunch
tote just to be sure.
I think this solves the
problem as I mop up the mess with the crappy brown paper towel roll. But I am wrong.
Apparently the water is
all inside the bag, somewhere between the inner lining and the outer
plastic. I pick the tote up again, and
the bag pees water all over the place.
Back to the wall dispenser I go, grabbing more and more and more paper
towels. I mop, mop, mop up the mess. Finally satisfied, I try to dry my still-wet arm with the last of the wadded-up paper towels.
Maybe, just maybe I can finish my sandwich in the few minutes I have
left before my next class starts.
I sit down in the comfy
cloth chair and … promptly stand up as fast as I can. In my rush to get the leaking tote to the
sink, the bag peed all over my chair, as well.
Luckily I am wearing dark brown pants, but I know I have a damp butt
spot on the left ass cheek. I also come
to the realization that my lunch tote must’ve leaked all over as I
walked the long hallways and ramps and stairs to get to the teachers’ room in
the first place. I’m surprised no one
said anything. I hope no one slipped in
the trail.
The tote is still sopping
wet, even though I’ve emptied it, wrung it out, and blotted it with more paper towels. I shove the tote into the gallon-sized baggie
that had housed the ice (yes, the leaky bag), mummify it by wrapping wads of brown
paper towel around it, and drop it on the floor by my desk back in the classroom.
The next time I forget to
re-freeze the cooler packets for my lunch, I’m packing PB&J and some
crackers directly into my backpack.
