Memory Monday: You Spin Me Right Round

Sorry it's been nothing but Memory Mondays around here.  I promise I want to post more than once a week.  My days keep getting away from me...

I was traveling back to school from either Thanksgiving break or Christmas break my junior year of college...give me a sec to think of the year...late 1999, or barely into 2000.  Now that I think about it a little harder, I think it was back from Christmas break, because I remember that a couple of guys my roomies and I hung out with, Shawn and Sheldon (brothers, from Hawaii), had stopped by our apartment and left us a note, along with one of their new roommates Morgan.  Little did I know that Pete was going to be their other new roommate.

Dun-dun DUNNNNNNNNN!!

The drive from Idaho Falls to Logan is not too bad.  I would get some Alanis or Phantom blasting in my little Neon, and sing at the top of my lungs.  I no longer do this, mostly because I don't drive alone.  Because alone, I have a fabulous voice and can hit the notes as well and as high as Sarah Brightman.  But when I'm in the car with, like, Pete, I realize that he has a better voice than I do, and so I just hum quietly along to myself, usually.  Unless by some bizarre twist of circumstance we'd be playing some Beatles music, then I be-bop along as loud as I please.  But Pete hates Beatles, so it doesn't happen very often.

Now that I've derailed twice from the topic, I'll get back on the story.  So.  Driving along.  It's only a little bit over 2 hours from one destination to the other.  I was singing along, and noticed my exit coming up.  It had been snowing, but the road was mostly dry, with just a few wet (not icy) patches here and there.  Snow was blowing every so slightly across the freeway, but there was no reason to fear the weather on this particular day.  I turn on my blinker to indicate my exit from the freeway, and...then totally lost control of the car.

I don't know if I hit an icy patch, but it seemed unlikely since it wasn't icy.  But my car started spinning.  I can't remember if it started spinning to the right or to the left first, but it ended up doing both.  I was spinning onto the exit ramp, toward a lamp post.  Suddenly, I was spinning the other way, back on to the freeway.  Suddenly I was spinning between the freeway and the exit ramp.

I swear to you I wasn't touching the steering wheel.  Well, I'm sure I was touching it, but I wasn't steering, or over correcting, or...anything.  It's as if my car was driving itself, and I was on a horrible car roller coaster ride.

I kept thinking: oh no!  I'm going to stop on the freeway and someone is going to bash right into me!  Oh no! I'm going to run into the exit sign!  Oh no!  I'm going to fall in between the two roads and the car is going to roll! 

I kid you not that my car made at least 10 full circles.

Suddenly, and I mean SUDDENLY, my car stopped spinning.  I was sitting in the middle of the off ramp, car facing the right way.  As if I had just stopped a little early of the stop sign at the bottom of the exit ramp.

You know on "The Wizard of Oz", where Dorothy is in her house and it's spinning around in the tornado, and the furniture is moving around, and it's super windy and loud, and then instantly it all stops?  All the wind and the movement, and the house just lands there?  It was like that.

I know, absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something-more like someone-stopped my car from spinning.  Someone saved my life.  Someone reached down, grabbed my spinning car, and placed it in the right place, without any harm done to me or to my car.

Of course I started crying.  I immediately said a prayer of gratitude for being safe on that day.  Because things could have turned out really really bad.

Now, I know that people have been in more dire circumstances with their cars than I was on this day.  They'd be like, spinning around?  Psh!  That's nothing!  And hey, I've ridden in cars where the driver is doing donuts in the church parking lot, and that's basically what this felt like.  But the instant stop, the instant safety, this little miracle in my life, is what was so wonderful about this memory.

Remember When? (Kind of like Memory Monday, but the TOTALLY CHEATING Version)

Hey!  Remember when I whined and complained about wanting to paint my downstairs family room?  Remember that I wanted to do it last spring, and that didn't happen, and then the summer flew by me, and then I was totally going to paint Labor Day weekend, but then that's when Pete got his 6th kidney stone?

Remember blah white walls with hundreds of dings in them?

Now there's a new memory to replace the old! 

Behold:

Okay, I don't know if it's showing up very well, but that would be a freshly painted beautiful blue wall!!!  My awesome sister Kar and I decided that we needed to help each other out in the painting-our-rooms-in-our-houses endeavors.  Because on our own, it seems to be an insurmountable task, but with two people doing it, it doesn't seem so bad, and then when you do it it gets done way faster.

I cleaned.  I fixed dings.  Lots and lots of dings.  I haven't put up my pictures again yet, but that shouldn't take long.  It looks so, so good!

Oh, and because I'm a nerd, I didn't get any action shots of us actually painting, but my sister did.  Also, Pete took the kids out to dinner and a movie to keep them out of the way, which was a HUGE help.

Okay, so also, remember when I was whining about having a messy kitchen all the time?  And how I need to change my habits and become better at what I do?  I've been working really hard at this, and though I haven't been perfect, I've been a lot better.  I've been trying to stay on top of laundry (this last week, not so much), and staying on top of dirty dishes.  So today...

Behold:

This is my kitchen with a freshly mopped floor.  The dishes are all done.  The laundry is running as I type.  I dusted and windexed.  I tried to snow blow, but I couldn't get the machine started, so I tried shoveling, and it kept blowing back on me, so I'm going to have to try again later today or tomorrow.  My chicken is cooked for tonight's dinner.  My floors are vacuumed.  I am the master of my fate!

YAY for new "memories"!

Memory Monday: Window "Pain"

Sorry my Memory Monday is a bit late.  It's been a bit crazy today.

See that scar on my finger?  You know, the scar that I circled in bright red?  This is the story behind that scar.

It was wintertime, January of 2006. We had lived in our current house for all of 5 or 6 months.  I was about two months along in my pregnancy with Troy.  Now, this is important.  Because I honestly was super crazy the whole time I was pregnant with Troy.  The kids would walk by me, and I'd be like, "DON'T WALK SO LOUD!!!!  AAAAHHHH!!!!"  In that spring we had planted some grass, and I went out and used the weed wacker on the weeds growing above the new grass on the whole entire lawn.  And we have a big freaking lawn.  Everything made me mad, everything made me sad.  I was the epitome of crazy.

So that day, my sister Lexi and I were going to get together to scrapbook.  You know, back when I had time to do cool things like that.  I went to the store with my two kids in tow, bought some stuff, and when I came home I thought, "Wouldn't it be great if I shoveled the snow off the walk for when Lex comes over before starting dinner?  Look at me be productive while having morning sickness!"  I had set the meat out on the counter, along with our other groceries, and went outside to shovel.  It wasn't quite dark out yet.

So I shovel-shovel-shovel, and then I went to go back inside.  Right as I reach for the doorknob, I hear a "click".  Jakob, all of a little over two, and Brock at 9-ish months old, had been inside.  And...Jakob had just locked the door on me.  Of course my keys were inside my house, and of course we hadn't made a copy of our key to give to anyone else or to set outside the house for just such an occasion.  In a nice voice, I said, "Jakob, honey, open the door for Mommy.  Just turn the little, um, thingy, the other way."  And my 2-year-old tried flipping the dead bolt part of the door.  Then I go, "Jakob, honey, keep trying.  It's the bottom one."  Of course he didn't get it.  I mean, he was two.  So then I knocked on the door, and the urgency built in my voice.  "Jake, please open the door.  You just have to turn the thingy on the knob.  Please, Jakob.  Wait-I'm going to the back door-please let me in."

And Jakob then ran downstairs.

I kept knocking.  I checked the front door.  I checked the back door.  Everything was locked-including windows.  Tight-like unto a dish.  Which, normally, would be a good thing.  On that day, not so much.

I ran around the house.  I rang the doorbell, and heard Jakob run upstairs.  I begged at that door for him to let me in.  He ran back downstairs to watch TV.  I climbed down into our window well and banged on the window, hoping he'd peek through the blinds at me.  Nada.

I sat down to try and figure out what to do.  Now, a normal person would think Hey!-run next door and ask to borrow their phone and call a locksmith!  But remember, I was not a normal person at this time.  I was Crazy Pregnant Nat.  I thought about going next door, but to call Pete, but knew he couldn't get to me for another two or three hours because of traveling back from work.  I thought, hey, I could just hang out over there until Pete gets home, but no, that would leave my kids in my house all alone.  Hmm, what in the world should I do????

I did the only "logical" thing that I could think of.  I would just have to break in.  Literally.

I grabbed a big hammer thing, and tried to find a suitable window.  Which one?  I didn't have a ladder (hm, still don't), so it would have to be one into which I could easily climb through.  The only one that I could see that would work was our big sliding glass door in the backyard.

So, right now I'm making it sound like I was being all calm and collected at this point.  Far from it.  Which kind of goes without explanation, because hi-I was about to break a big glass door.  But my mind was all, "THE MEAT IS ON THE COUNTER-IT WILL GO BAD!!!!  BROCK IS DOWNSTAIRS CRYING-WHAT IF HE'S HURT?!?!?!?  I WILL NEVER REACH MY CHILDREN!!!  THEY ARE GOING TO DIE IF I'M NOT WITH THEM RIGHT THIS SECOND!!!!  AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!"  Kind of Mama Bear meets Axe Murderer meets Xena the Warrior Princess.

I took my big hammer, and swung at the door.  It hit.  And bounced off.  Nothing!  So, I try again, but a little harder.  Everyone and their dog was like, didn't you know it was going to shatter everywhere?  Um, no, I did not, having never broken a window/door before.  I actually thought I'd break a little hole right by the handle so I could reach in and flip the lock, and the glass would just have a little hole in it.  But no.  The whole entire pane shattered into little pebble-like pieces.  But then I discovered something else-our door was double paned.  So I had to do it again.

Each time I swung, I turned my face away and closed my eyes.  Smart point-the only smart point of the night-for me.  But, stupid point for me-I was holding my gloves in my left hand as I swung with my right.  Why I didn't put my gloves on while swinging my hand at broken glass is beyond me.

I hit through the second pane, and barely realized that my finger got sliced in the process.  I immediately started crying.  There was glass everywhere in my kitchen, and outside.  I went to the kitchen sink for my finger, dripping blood as I went.  And then I got on the phone, trying to find anyone that I could to come and help me.  I called my mom's cell, then my parents' house, then Lexi's cell, then my dad's cell, then my dad's work.  No answers anywhere.  I called Pete and told him what happened.  I went downstairs and said, "JAKOB!  Why didn't you let me in?!?!?"  He was calmly sitting on the couch, watching TV.  I think he thought he'd be in trouble if he came back up, which is why he was hiding.

I finally got ahold of my mom, and she came over.  In the meantime, I tried to sweep broken glass with a bleeding finger.  I tried to calm my baby Brock while bleeding everywhere.  We went to the urgent care.  My skin on my finger was hanging on by a thread, so they basically pulled it off and then sewed it back on.

For the next week I had a brace thingy that I couldn't get wet.  Showering left-handed (I'm right) was quite the adventure.  Then I had to take the brace off and could barely bend my finger.  That night my family had to stay with my parents until a replacement door got put in.  We propped up some cardboard to help keep snow out of our house.

And now I have a reminder of my Crazy Days.

And my glass sliding door doesn't work as well as the original.

Memory Monday: The Abercrombie & Fitch Party

My whole life, I've felt very much like Josie Geller in the movie Never Been Kissed.  But not nearly as much as when I went to the "Abercrombie & Fitch" Party.  At least, that's what I ended up dubbing it.

For some comparison photos, this picture represents me.  Josie's nickname: Josie Grossie.

Seriously, this is me.  Always.

Aaaannnnddd...here are some Abercrombie & Fitch models:

I finally found a pic of A&F models that were slightly more dressed.  Yikes.  Bikes.

Okay.  So, it wasn't a real Abercrombie & Fitch party.  It was actually a party at the Governor's Mansion in Salt Lake City. 

During the summer after I graduated from college (2001-which seems SO weird to me that it was that long ago), I lived in Idaho Falls again, working at a hotel.  You know, really putting my degree to good use.  Although, in my defence, I graduated in finance, right after the whole stock market bubble burst.  Jobs in my field were a little scarce.

Somehow, me and my good friend Chelsey ended up in Salt Lake for a weekend, with Pete, his mission buddy Myers, and a guy I knew from drama classes in college named Dustin, who had been home from his mission all of, like, three days or something.  Maybe that's why we were down there-to see him for some reason.  He was from Farmington (the city right next to Lagoon).

So, Myers knew someone, who knew someone, who knew someone that had been invited to this party.  So we got invited to it by default.

There were so many beautiful people there.  Everyone was dressed in the perfect clothes, and saying the perfect things.  They were gliding around, chortling at each other's witty jokes, and having the perfect comeback ready.  They danced the perfect dance moves to the perfect music.  The party had the perfect lighting.  All the girls were skinny and had long shimmery hair.  All the guys had muscly arms and trendy clothes.

...And then there was me.

"Hey Guy.  Guys.  Guy's guys!"  hee-hee *snort!*

I remember trying to "flirt" with a guy.  I started talking about the bench in the hall.  I'm pretty sure I let out a few more "hee-hee *snort!*"s in between words. 

I also remember trying to talk to Dustin.  I asked him something about his mission-he had served in Zimbabwe.  I think I asked about the language, and asked him to say something.  And...he started singing some tribal song.  At the top of his lungs.  In the middle of the dancing area.  He was totally fine with it, like it was a normal thing to burst out in song in a different language.  I, on the other hand, was mortified.  Maybe I shouldn't have been.  But I think it was my own insecurities that brought that reaction out of me.  Like, don't draw unwarranted stares from the pretty people!  I'm trying to blend, not stand out even more!  His song was very Lion King, and I think in a different setting would have been awesome.  But not at the Governor's Mansion.

We left after a while.  I had never felt more...little.  And dorky.  Not that anyone was mean.  They were just all so....model-y.

We went to Dustin's house and watched a movie.  I don't remember which one.  Though, I think Never Been Kissed would have been appropriate. That, or Zoolander.

Lee-low-stone

(So this happened, like, a month ago, and I'm just getting around to posting about it.  Good times.)

In the first part of October, Pete's parents came up to visit us.  We decided to head up to Yellowstone Park for the day.  Pete's dad has been all over the world, but has never been to Yellowstone. 
It was a gorgeous day, but very very cold.  But since we went in the fall instead of the summer, the animals were out in droves.  Here are a bunch of elk that we saw when we barely entered the park:

DROVES, I tell you!  I actually can't think of a time when I've seen the elk out, and I've been to Yellowstone several times. 

We drove to Old Faithful, and decided to make sandwiches and wait for it to go off.

Here's Ivy:

You can tell it's cold.  Her little nose and fingers were red.  It was fine while we were walking, but when we stopped is when we could feel the crisp cold wind.

Here's Jakob being all emo about something.  I can't remember why he was pouting, but whatever.

Marianne and Howard, with Troy and Brock.  We had the kids stand or sit in front of us so we could block the cold wind.

And finally, Old Faithful!  It never ceases to amaze me.

Jake and Brock saw it when they were super little, so I think this is the first time they remember seeing it.

Ivy was all "WHOA!!!"  She thought it was great.

I tried to take a picture of the kids, but the sun was right behind me.  I love how Troy is trying to open his eyes here.  (When I was little, my dad would always take outside pictures, and we'd be looking straight at the sun.  I have so many squinty-eyed pictures.)

And here are the Yellowstone Falls.  This thing is seriously humongous!  I think it's my favorite part of Yellowstone Park.

Here's our family picture, with the falls in the background:

Did I mention the animals were out in droves?  A buffalo:

And the grandparents with the grandkids.

Like I said, we had so much fun!  Thanks for going with us, guys!

Hallo-Weeeeee!!!

This year's Halloween festivities turned out so much better than last year's for the Nat Pack.  Well, maybe it was the same for the kids, but it was definitely better for me.

It started out with going to the pumpkin patch with Troy and Ivy for Troy's preschool class.  It was so nice that day!  Hence the sunglasses on Troy.

Troy's teacher, Miss Karla, had the kids try to find the biggest pumpkin they could, then the smallest.

Ivy found this little round thing.  I think it's a watermelon instead of a pumpkin, but whatever.  She's all about "baby" things.

Later on, Ivy and I went back and got pumpkins for everyone else.  I hate carving pumpkins, because it's super messy, and I've never liked roasting the seeds or whatever it is that you're supposed to do with them.  So we decided to do fingerpaints instead.

I think Brock's turned out the best.  He's so very artsy.  I should have taken a picture of the completed pumpkins, but...I was ashamed of my own pumpkin.  I'm NOT crafty.  At ALL.  All my kids' pumpkins turned out way better than mine did.  I didn't want to document mine.  Though, retrospectively, I should have just omitted my pumpkin and taken the picture.  Oh well.

Even though I'm not crafty, I can sew a little bit.  So this year, I convinced the kids to have costumes that all fit together, and I made their costumes.  So they were characters from Peter Pan.  Jake was Captain Hook, Brock was the Crocodile, Troy was Peter Pan, Ivy was Tinkerbell, and I was Smee.  I was going to have Pete be Smee and I was going to be the Second Star to the Right, but Pete pooped out.

The kids all got to dress up for their class parties.  We went to a trunk-or-treat for Pete's work on Friday, then a trunk-or-treat at the elementary school on Saturday.  Which, trunk-or-treats are so much better than the old school house-to-house: you get to see everyone, it takes way less time, and you get more candy.  Wins all around.

My kids are already talking about what they want to be for next Halloween.  This is definitely one of our favorite holidays.

Unfinished Thoughts

I've been a little frustrated all week.  I think it's because I taught a lesson on self-mastery to my cute Young Women on Sunday.  And I'm probably the last person that should be teaching that.  Because I'm the ultimate non-master of myself. 

We were talking about bad habits, and I told the girls that sometimes I end up leaving my dishes unwashed, so that they're lining my counter, and have dried food on them and I hate that that's become one of my habits.  Now, it's not every day, but still, it happens way more often than I'd like.  I was explaining this, and one of the girls got this "how gross" look on her face.  And I was like, I know, right?  Totally gross. 

But really, it's not just dirty dishes.  It's laundry that piles up taller than Troy (I measured today).  It's unmopped floors and stinky bathrooms.  It's the unfinished projects sitting by my computer.  It's the oh-crap-we're-almost-out-of-milk-better-finally-make-a-list-and-run-to-the-store.

It's procrastination.

And I hate it about myself.  It's even hitting the snooze button-I'm procrastinating getting up out of bed.

I wish I could be one of those tackle everything immediately kinds of people.  And I can be like that about some things.  But I end up procrastinating a lot more often than I'd like.

Let's be honest.  Most of the things that I procrastinate are the things that I hate doing.  Chores, if you will.  And it boils down to being part of my "job" as a homemaker.  If I had a performance review right now of how I was doing, I'd probably get fired.  I'm surprised my kids haven't fired me yet.

So, what to do about it?

I only had a few minutes to prepare my lesson.  (Not because of procrastination, luckily, but just a miscommunication.)  So here are a few more thoughts that I wish I could have brought up.  I'm writing them here, just for myself.

In the lesson I brought up the ending of the poem Invictus.  The last two lines read "I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul."  I wish I had had a copy of the whole poem, and had given it as a handout.  We talked about it briefly.  Basically, we are in charge of our own destiny.  If we don't like the direction we are heading in, we need to change it. 

I wish I had known beforehand that the author of that poem, William Ernest Henley,  had to have his leg amputated at 25 (which is about when he wrote the poem), and he died at 53 after leading a very active life.

We also read a scripture: Mosiah 4:27-...it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength.  And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize...  I wish I would have had a minute to think about that scripture.  Because right now, it's not realistic to expect my house to be spotless-I have four little kids running around making messes right and left!  But again, I can't blame them for it all.  I need to be diligent, that I "might win the prize". 

I was thinking about some of our girls that play sports, especially the track girls.  Every person has their different strengths; not everyone is made to sprint; not everyone is made for long distance, either.  But everyone has their own race to run, at their own pace.  What one person can accomplish in a day is not the same as another person.  And it can ebb and flow in our own lives-there are times when we can conquer a lot, get a lot done, and feel great.  There are other times when it's all we can do to get everyone fed for the day, never mind do the dishes on top of that.  But you can't win a race if you don't even get on the track to start the race to begin with.

The gist of the lesson was thoughts lead to actions, which lead to habits, which lead to your character, and finally to your destiny.  So to change a habit, we need to change our thoughts and our actions, which will lead to a different destiny.

So this is my step 1: I'm trying to change my thoughts.  I've realized that no one is going to do the laundry for me.  No one is going to push me out of bed.  Not that this is a new epiphany for me, but I'm the only one to blame for having a laundry pile the size of a small mountain.

My step 2: my actions.  Yesterday I "caught up" on dishes.  Today I "caught up" on laundry.  My goal to change my habit of procrastination is to do two loads of laundry every day, and to do my dishes every day, no matter how late. 

And, this should lead to my step 3: my habits getting changed.  There are so many other things that am tired of procrastinating on, like painting my downstairs living room, or making new bedspreads for my boys.  But if I can conquer the mundane everyday tasks, then I can move on to bigger and better, and conquer those things, too.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

I challenged my girls to pick just one bad habit, and work to change it.  And that is what I am going to do.  Because I AM the master of my fate.  I AM the captain of my soul!

White and Nerdy

I don't know if this falls under "geek, dweeb, or spaz", or all of the above, but I have a confession to make...

I LOVE these:

They're called logic puzzles.  They give you clues, and then you have to figure out what belongs to whom by process of elimination.

I seriously, seriously love them.  I could probably do them all day long.  I have a little book that I take to my kids' gym class (more on that later).

Here's another type.  Very much the same, but it works with the picture at the bottom of the page rather than the grid:

Also?  There's an online site that has these, but they get predictable.  They're also a tad bit easier than the book I have.

Another, very closely related nerdy thing that I love is called logic art.  It's kind of like the logic puzzles, but when you're done, you end up with a picture, again using process of elimination.  I first was introduced to logic art when I took a nerdy extra math class in high school called discreet math.  (And, I actually really enjoyed that class.)  Anyway, I couldn't figure out a great way to explain it, so I scanned in the directions:

And here are two puzzles, for your enjoyment...um, or repulsion, to look at.  Because let's face it- this isn't everyone's cup of tea.

Here's an online site of logic art, called Griddlers.  I could spend all day doing these, as well.

And now you know!  (Um, like you didn't know before that I was a nerd.  Come on.)

P.S.-There's a nerd site I've recently found, called GraphJam.  Embrace the nerd within!

Memory Monday: Changing Room Surprise

During one summer while I was in college, I worked at JCPenney.  My manager was awesome, but the customers were awful.  They were always wanting discounts on everything.  "There's this tiny little snag in the fabric by the hem at the bottom of the pants; can I get this for 80% off?"  Seriously.  Or, they'd place the item on the clearance rack, then come up to buy it and say, "But I found it on the clearance rack!"  And I'd be like, but it's not marked down, and there's the rack that has 30 of the same item for the price that the tag says.  Good times.

I worked in womens, and juniors, and petites.  For some reason, I got stuck in the juniors department on a Saturday afternoon all by myself, and I hadn't been working there all that long.  It should go without saying that that's a really busy department at that time.  Maybe there was someone else, but everyone would take 2 hour lunch breaks when we were only allotted a half hour (they would clock back in and just hang out eating-it seriously ticked me off-and yes, I know that's time card fraud or whatever it's called).  Or, there was one girl that would wander off and go up in the attic area.  (Yes, there was an attic area.  I have no idea how to get up there anymore-I think up some random back stairs.)

So, we were supposed to go through the dressing rooms every 1/2 hour, just to clear all the clothes out.  But I got stuck at the register, and had a line for at least an hour.  Seriously, no stop whatsoever.  I think I had a line because they couldn't find anyone else in any of the other areas of the store.  Everyone must have been gone eating.  In the attic.

I finally had a break in the flow, and knew my dressing rooms were long overdue for some merchandise removal.  I started in, and I was pulling armloads out of each dressing room.  There are...4 or 5ish rooms.  I got to one of the last rooms, and it smelled really funky.  I just figured, whatever, let me get these clothes out and back to the racks.  I picked up a dress that was crumpled up on the ground, only to find...brace yourself...a humongous poop pile. 

It was green.  And not really solid, if you get my drift.

I immediately put the dress back down onto the offending pile.  I went to the next department over, and politely asked my co-worker what to do.  She couldn't believe that that had happened.  Then I called my manager.

I kept thinking, who would do that?  Even if you didn't want to confess, why put clothing on top of it?  I hadn't noticed anyone leaving all suspicious-like.  It just blew my mind.

Anyway, my manager came over, and she was the one that ended up cleaning up the poop mess.  Poor lady.  Although, I have to admit, if she had told me to clean it up, I would have quit on the spot.

None of the other workers had ever had that happen to them, and some of those ladies had been there for years and years.  I was the lucky one.  Needless to say, I didn't stay at that job for all that long.

You wanna know the sad thing?  Even though someone pooped a lot of poop in my dressing room, that's not even the worst job that I've ever had.  But it definitely made it memorable.