Cleaning the Fish Tank: DONE

Unbelievable for me is the fact that I checked the number one chore on my To Do list off before 10AM! Of course today is Thursday and cleaning the fish tank was Monday’s number one chore. I will work on my procrastination later. One thing at a time.

I recall years ago when my husband and I, prechild, had a fish tank that slowly declined through the years. We started fresh will all new pretty rock but the tank insisted on turning hues of brown and muck. We would begrudgingly, after months of “fixin’ to” (that is a shout out to my Oklahoma relatives), clean the tank. It would sparkle a little less duller each time. Then our baby came. The begrudgingly cleaning was now more like years apart. Muck and yuck were better adjectives of the tank than when the sheen was all clean. Yet you could still see the fish!

Now our child is 6 years old. After letting the tank die out, we questioned ourselves on whether Emily would enjoy a tank of her own in her room or do it right and fire up our old 30 gallon tank. If you have ever had to clean those dinky icky little tanks, you would go for the industrial strength filter and the big tank. Or so we thought.

We took Emily to the fish store to pick out new rock and plastic finery. We were going to have a fresh and very colorful tank. Emily picked neon color rock, which we sprinkled in some black rock to hide the brown/black gunk which was bound to return. Emily gleefully filled her pretty tank, and we put it in a place of prominence in our family room. Next to the TV. I do like the choice of location for the fish tank, however, it is a constant reminder of how I hate to do my To Do list. It is especially close to my husband’s chair. He is always willing to remind me of my forgotten To Do list.

Emily waited not so patiently for the tank to acclimate. Now was the time to pick out the prettiest fish in the pet store. In other words, we had to keep directing Emily back to the fresh water tanks. Why does ever kid want Nemo? On the way home from the fish store, Emily sat in the back seat and named her fish. Her fish were finally released in their new home. The next day I quizzed Emily on her fish names and this time each one had a new name. Every time one swam by he would have a different name. You would’ve thought we had 30 fish with all the names Emily was throwing around. I never mentioned this to her since I believe there is a fish fact that fish don’t really remember their names anyway.  It is much easier this way. When Molly is secretly flushed down the toilet at night, Daddy can sneak Ginger in without anyone being the wiser.

On to today’s fish tank cleaning fiasco. I should mention that I am typing with a towel between myself and my laptop. I am afraid of getting a shock without it. Cleaning a fish tank leaves you soaked. At least me. As I was using my fingers to clean the black “gunk” that was stuck on the leaves of Emily’s gloriously grody, purple plant finery, amazingly never thinking this before; I am cleaning fish poop and rotten food. YUCK!! Rationally I know that some of this is brown algae. Duh! BUT! Poop?!? When did it become OK to clean up poop of any kind with your hands? Why am I not double gloved? How is it that we don’t gross out when fish poop? We do if we are holding a mouse or toad. In this case, we scream and toss them aside. They are both small . So smallness is not the factor. I am not sure what it is. Also, do fish pee? I don’t know. I have never seen one pee, but I have watched fish swim with a long trail of poop coming out of what I would assume is their butt. Gross. This is why I don’t swim in lakes or oceans. We are swimming in “their” potty! That and because of the movie Jaws. When I was 18 I was swimming, more like wading, in a local lake and a fish mouthed a mole on my back. I yelled, “JAWS!” and never went more than ankle deep in “fish water” again. Luckily I have no moles from my ankles down. But I digress.

I think fish are cool. I really do. Only to watch. But like most people, or at least girls, I do not want to touch or hold fish. Once again, thanks to the scarring I received as a child from the movie Jaws, I actually fear fish. This adds to my dilemma of cleaning the fish tank. I have to put my hand in the water to clean the glass. I swear I bought the long handled sponge, but of course can’t find it. I think my husband hid it. He thinks I am a wuss. The reason I have a specific fear of my tank, which I only dip an appendage in, is due to my coolest fish. The coolie loach. Even his name is cool. I rarely see the guy. He is worm-like and at times goes nuts. Today I discovered that cleaning the fish tank is one of those times. Today he had a mission to go after my hand as the terrible predator it is. He was a wriggling mess. He swam very quickly all over the tank. Have you ever tried to clean a bathroom mirror while constantly looking over your shoulder to see if the guy from Psycho has entered the room? Same concept. I am not sure why my logical brain doesn’t ask, “What is the worst he can do to you?”.  Coolie loaches are sucker fish. They clean algae out of my tank. I believe the worse thing that can happen is that I would get a pencil eraser sized hickey on my finger or arm. I think I can live with that, but the scared little girl inside of me is still screaming!

The tank is finally complete. All the pretty plants are back to their now semi-shiny luster and the fish have returned to their normal daily activities. I am not sure what they are at this point. Do they have their own daily To Do list?

Next on my To Do list is taxes. Hmmmmm. No problem. I have until April. What is another day or two?