It sure looked like it could be chocolate. Brown. Slightly gooey and soft. Rounded little droplets. Sticky. Lots of them.
Only trouble is, the mud-colored droplets were spattered on the floor - not in the kitchen, but in the bathroom. All around the toilet.
I bent over, antibacterial cleanser in hand, to scrub the brown mess.
Some moms might not immediately jump to a chocolate conclusion when confronted with a bathroom floor littered with coffee-colored goo, but those moms do not live in a house where little honeys have been known to abscond with unpermissioned treats, eating them in the privacy of a bedroom, behind a couch and even in the bathroom.
In my house, one could surmise that around the toilet is exactly where chocolate would fall if it were to fall in the bathroom because the consumer of said chocolate would likely be seated while dining.
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Dropped chocolate pieces would land in a circular pattern around the perimeter of the chair, or in this case, toilet.
Unless.
Unless the chocolate wasn't chocolate at all. What if. My hand recoiled instinctively from the sponge I was using to clean the floor. What if this wasn't candy? What if it wasn't anything even remotely edible? What if it was!?!
I checked the garbage hoping to find abandoned orange Reeses or Kit Kat wrappers, but none were available to put an end to my mystery.
Life is rarely that easy.
I studied the spatter patterns of the unidentified substance. No run-off or liquid was visible. No large or oddly shaped pieces. All bits were just that: bits. Like morsels of chocolate. Chocolate chips, I reassured myself as I stretched my arm behind the biffy to reach an especially remote piece.
Of course I thought about doing the obvious. Who wouldn't? I suppose I could have smelled the chocolate-looking substance, but perhaps there are some questions that we really don't want answered. That, and I really didn't want to get a whiff of the little brown wad if it, indeed, happened NOT to be chocolate.
The scene from Caddyshack where the pool is evacuated all because a kid dropped a Baby Ruth candy bar in the water and someone mistook it for something other than chocolate came to mind. At the end of the scene, when the pool has been completely drained, Bill Murray picks up the unidentified brown object, smells it, and then takes a nice big bite.
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I am not that brave.
I may enjoy a bon bon now and again, but I wasn't willing to go down the road that involved sniffing unknown substances. No, these pieces of, whatever, would be disinfected, disposed of and destroyed. My hands would be completely and thoroughly washed with antibacterial soap and maybe a drop or two of bleach. I would leave the bathroom clean, my hands cleaner.
It was one of those jobs that leaves you satisfied, not to mention grateful when it's done. The bathroom was free of brown stuff and I was free to go on with my day. It was just about then when I realized I was more than a little bit hungry. A snack was in order. I'd earned it. I went the pantry looking something - anything. Anything other than chocolate.
Jill Pertler is a syndicated columnist and freelance writer working with graphic designer Nikki Willgohs to provide writing and design and other marketing services to businesses and individuals. You can check out their Web site at http://marketing-by-design.home.mchsi.com/ or e-mail Jill at pertmn@qwest.net .
