Getting Over It

Image courtesy of the Telegraph

I finally sucked it up and cleaned the goldfish tank. An employee at the pet food store in Dartford advised me that I'd have to take out the filter (involves putting my hand IN the water where the fish live) and clean out the ammonia-rich gunk that is surely blocking the filter, preventing it from cleaning the tank properly (involves me touching said ammonia-rich gunk), which is leading to the slow, stinky death of my fish. They're not even mine (they belong to my landlord), but I have felt this responsibility for them since I moved in. The worst part? I'm the reason they're over-producing this gunk: I over fed them and now they're wallowing in their own waste. Gross, right?

So today I just did it. I took out the dreaded filter (lo and behold, the fish swam away from me, unlike in my nightmares where they touch me) and cleaned it. It was full of the most putrid browny-yellow baby-puke-esque goo that certainly would have prevented the water from flowing through it effectively. As soon as I was wrist-deep in the stuff, I thought, "hey! This is no big deal."

Not a half hour later, the tank is full of nearly transparent water. No more gunk.

Sometimes it's the small victories that leave you feeling the most fulfilled with your own personal ability.