Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without a few household catastrophes.

My sister Janet gave my mom a kind of sprayer nozzle for the kitchen sink. In theory, a person would simply screw it onto the faucet and that would be that. In actuality, however, the process involved:

1. “I think it’s on there crooked, Jack.”
2. “I know, Judy!”
3. Dad goes to find a pliers.
4. “Don’t we have any blasted pliers in the house?!”
5. @$!?!!%&!
6. He goes out in the storm to the garage to look.
7. Mom attempts her own fix, breaking a small piece.
8. “Oh dear.”
9. “Don’t tell dad,” I said. “It’ll only get worse.”
10. “I broke a piece,” she said.
11. “Maybe it’s time to just let me handle it!” he said.
12. Several more attempts.
13. $!*&@!?!!
14. “Is it still leaking?”
15. Dad turns on the faucet and it shoots a spray of water right in his eye.
16. $&!!?@$!!
17. No, we did not get it to work.

Part two of our Christmasly adventure involved my decision to do the laundry. It should have been a minor task, had not the clothes washer decided to leak water all over the floor.

Repeat a similar version of the scene as found above, with the addition of several towels.