This is our bulimic fish, Shimmer.
Shimmer throws up/poos/sullies herself often and as a result, her fish bowl looks trampy and boggy almost every day. So I clean it a lot.
These are the two red plastic cups we keep by the kitchen sink. We have 1,009 in our pantry, but we only put two out at any given time, despite the fact that there are four of us in this family. I think this is because I’d need to lie down/stay forever in a sensory deprivation tank if there were ONE more freaking thing to clean in this house. And no one, except for occasionally my husband, wants that. (San Diego Momma in sensory deprivation tank = no yelling about clean red cups and boggy fish bowls.)
This is my daughter, Toots, who…
Well, let me back up.
As previously mentioned, I clean my bulimic fish, Shimmer’s, fish bowl often. And most of the time, I
unceremoniously gently scoop her up in my hands and place her lovingly begrudgingly in one of the red plastic cups by the kitchen sink. Then, I piss-offedly calmly rub out her crap with a sponge and re-fill the bowl with water, dumping re-positioning Shimmer into her skank tank. At which point, I rinse the red plastic cup, throw it away, and retrieve another one from the pantry for placement next to the sink.
I guess I got distracted the other day.
Because after Toots took a drink of water from her red plastic cup, she said it tasted like “Sea World.”