So amid all the frantic party preparation last week, something horrible and unexplained happened in the bathtub. I came home from work and Spencer told me that he had just discovered that the tub was full of what appeared to be penne pasta and sand. Also, the mixture smelled of bile. Spencer said he hadn’t puked, and Aly had just showered without any problem minutes before. Betsy hadn’t gotten home yet. And worst of all was the fact that it was noodles and sand, together, which raises the question of who might have eaten such a meal. (Though, admittedly, the notion that it would have been immediately thrown up would make sense.) Also, the little hair catcher on the drain had not been moved, which led us to believe that the foulness must have come from someone’s mouth instead of having bubbled up from the drain, as it would have moved the hair catcher.
There, at the bottom of the tub, the penne-con-pebbles sat, until we used the shower to make it go away. I bleached the fuck out of the tub and took a shower without incident. Since no one owned up to the puking, the matter subsided into a suspicious silence, with everyone secretly imagining that one of us might have eaten something terrible and then neglected to void themselves of it into the toilet, like a good roommate should.
This morning, I woke up to horrified shouts of Aly again trying to use the shower, as she recovered from the terrible hangover of her previous night. While she was trying to decide whether or not she had to throw up, the tub decided for her. The alphabet soup that I had not finished last night had apparently started flowing into the tub — not from the drain but from that weird thing that drains bathwater when it gets to high, elevator-from-The Shining-style. (We all hoped the tub would send us a message via alphabet noodles, possible something like “HELP” or “SICK” or "GET OUT," but it did not.) The problem gets entirely worse when we use the kitchen sink, which I’m actually in favor of, since I feel like I’ve been doing dishes too often, given how little time I’ve spent at the apartment awake.
Finally, the mystery of the tub puke is solved. However, this means someone tried to shove entire penne noodles into the kitchen sink, which has no disposal. And given that the whole apartment reeks of the strangest, most rotten puke ever, I don’t think I’m up to solving this one.