It’s getting close to “Black Friday,” when the stores have such crazy deals that people stampede into the stores, elbows and purses akimbo. I hope nobody gets hurt this year, but in any case, it won’t be me. Every time I hear “Wet cleanup on aisle seven” my mind fills in the blanks. Somebody spontaneously combusted. There’s a spleen on the floor. The lobsters escaped from the tank and are waving their noodly antennae menacingly at clerks and consumers. Household chemicals have fallen to the floor and a toxic cloud is billowing toward me. Spilled syrup is ensnaring shoppers like flypaper.
The voice on the PA says “wet cleanup.” I hear “run for your life.” You can never be too safe.
The Fretful Mother's Blog 
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