Drinking, Part I

I just knocked a small bottle of pepcid off the medicine cabinet shelf at the exact moment the toilet was in the vigorous part of its flush. Gone, pepcid, gone. More flushing alternated with plungering. No result. I hear the damn thing way down in there.

Who can write after a tragedy like this? You know what's going to happen the first time someone has a #2 in there tomorrow? Did you know this is a one-bathroom house?

Who can write Drinking Part I after a complete apocalyptic disaster like this? This is the kind of shit that derails me. You want to die with my hand in your hand? Fine. I'll write about some June flowers covered in fireflies right afterwards. You want to jam some pepcid in the most essential piece of plumbing in my life?

I'm a well run dry.