I'm standing wellie-deep in the pond. It has been mostly drained so the crap that is left in the bottom is exactly that...crap. Power washer hose in one rubber gloved hand. Jimmy and the kids standing on the side watching me. The entire time I am worried about coming across the partially decomposed body of the fish that was living in there last fall.
Whoosh, here comes the fish!! It flies out of the water, aided by the force of the power washer, and hits me on the leg.
But, it's alive!
I send Jimmy into the house for a colander but first I have to explain what a colander is for about 5 minutes. (Do you know what a colander is?) I catch the fish and at this point my mom has arrived. She points out that I have peeled the skin off half of the fish with the power washer. So of course the kids want to see it. Fast forward to that night...Fish is in a bucket on my kitchen counter. (What the hell?!) I peek in and notice that he looks like he's gulping for air. Hmm. Mention it. The kids start a running list of all the possible ways that I have killed the fish. "It's starving to death, mom". " You peeled it's skin off, mom". It can't breathe in that bucket, mom". "It was cold all winter, mom" and on and on. The next day the fish is officially dead. It is waaayy too big to flush so I decide to fling it over the fence into the canal. But then I get a picture of the fish landing barely on the other side of the fence and Harvey retrieving it then tearing it up all over my yard. Hmmm. Call dad. "Dad, can you come over?" "Sure, why?"
"Well, I need you to fling a dead fish over my fence and into the canal. And make sure it gets all the way into the canal."
"Oh, ok. I'll be there in a few minutes"
No questions. Nothin'.
There you go. An entire weekend of my life. Riveted aren't you? I lead such an exciting life.