dodging an agatha christie opening

I almost joined Jack Brock last night (remembering jack brock).

By poisoning myself. Accidentally, mind you.

Because of the quality of the water that comes out of my bathroom tap, I keep a couple of bottles filled with filtered water at hand. For brushing my teeth and taking pills. That sort of thing.

My doctor has prescribed some sort of natural medicine drops that I am supposed to take before each meal. I have no idea what it is supposed to do. I think I once knew, but that part of my brain has taken a permanent vacation. I simply call it "monkey piss." Whatever it is, it stains the cup I use to mix the drops with water.

Last night, I pulled out my pills, the drops, the toothpaste, and my toothbrush. I was ready for the full off-to-bed performance.

When I picked up the cup, I was surprised to find it filled with water. That was odd. I usually only fill it part way, and I had no memory of filling it at all. But, please recall, memory is not my forte these days.

So, I poured half back into the water bottle, added my drops to the water in the cup, tossed my pills in my mouth, and gulped down what I should have considered as a mystery solution. I had drunk almost all of it when my taste kicked in.

It was bleach. Or, at least, some bleach and water. Dora must have left it there to soak out the stains in the glass.

The solution must have not been very strong. I did not suffer the usual chlorine burns in my mouth or throat. But the solution was strong enough to immediately dry out my mouth.

Fortunately, a member of the medical community was at hand. Christy did a quick internet search. The next thing I knew, I was drinking a quart of milk.

The fact that I am writing this story lets you know I am still alive. But I burped chlorine gas for most of the night. I had become my own personal weapon of mass destruction.
There are probably all kinds of lessons to learn here. But the knowledge will most likely be useless. How often does something like this happen to one person? I am just glad the cup was not left on the bathroom counter in one of the guest rooms.

To celebrate my escape from the fields of Ypres, we are off to the beach at Chantli Mare (movie mogul migration). We need to introduce Lisa to this local gem.