Yesterday I backed into a car while attempting to get into a parking space.
I got out of my car and we looked at the damage. I had dented and cracked his bike rack. No damage to mine. The man wasn’t very nice and actually said, “You’re not going to skip out on this are you?” He stated this in several different ways several times. The nerve!
Side Note: I did not have a terrible reaction the way I used to when I did something wrong. My eyes only filled with tears and lips quivered. Almost, but not quite, my face began to crumple into “oh god I’m going to cry” phase. Honestly I’m not ashamed of any of that. I think that would be a normal reaction to an unpleasant situation.
While standing there trying to keep my calm, I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was the director of the event I was working. He asked if I was alright. He had such a genuine look of concern, a few more tears leaked out. He asked if I needed to go home he would understand. I said I would be alright and he gave me a hug.
On my way into the event someone else approached me to ask how I was and she gave me a hug.
Half way through the event a volunteer checked in to see if I needed anything and I got another hug.
When the event was over the director came by again and I thanked him . I said I couldn’t believe how kind everyone was and how much it meant to me that I wasn’t standing there in the middle of the street alone.
This maybe a bit dramatic, but it was human nature, as it could be and was that in that moment.
This accident was no accident. The more I think about it, to experience kindness and worth as a human being, well, was worth the deductible.
I was cleaning out the bathroom drawers. I have been accused in the past of throwing out things I shouldn’t have. I can usually counter that accusation by finding the item in question. I am the record holder of “Supreme Finder” title in our family. I can find things without even looking or getting up.
As I said, I was cleaning the drawers in the bathroom vanity. I pulled everything out first, cleaned the drawer and then put everything back in. Well, almost everything. There were the loose tooth floss toothpick things, hair ties, stray, Q –tips, old toothbrushes, etc. Those I threw away.
The real danger came when I approached John’s drawer. I pulled the drawer open and felt my blood run cool for just a moment. Okay, that may have been my imagination, but you get the gist of the apprehension I was feeling.
In his drawer were razors, empty toothpaste tubes, used stray toothpick floss things, an old handle for the blinds, combs and a few pens. Pretty straight forward I thought. A no-brainer. Ah, no. Nothing is ever simple with John. It is my fault. I should’ve realized it. I should have tried to get into his brain while I analyzed every piece of bathroom paraphernalia in his drawer. Hindsight is 20/20.
The next day John casually asked me if I had seen a white pole when I was cleaning out the drawers. I didn’t remember until a few minutes of thinking about it.
“Oh, yeah, I threw it away, ” I don’t know why I felt so confident in myself at that moment. It didn’t last long.
“I had made it into a handle for my razor so I could shave my back”, he said quite calmly.
“Oh no! I thought it was just an old pole!”, I cried (it was just an old pole).
He was very calm, unlike him calm and said, “It was the handle from a blind and the end was broken in just the right way so the razor handle fit.” I thought this was a little strange to invent something when he could have bought one.
My first response to a problem, especially when caused by me is to begin to solve it. I took a handle from the blinds in the bedroom, no dice. I took one from Allison’s room, no. My last one was from the kitchen and it didn’t work.
I felt terrible, probably worse than the situation warranted (as is also my way), but I kept trying to fix what I had caused. I think I was also trying to save face. I had always heralded the fact that whatever I was accused of throwing away I had always found it and felt quite smug about it too.
My first line of defense was Amazon. I looked for something to replace “the rod”. I found two things, so I screen shot them and sent them to John. He texted back saying “I will figure something else out”. Always the martyr.
I had an idea of going to ACE Hardware with the razor and getting a piece of pvc that it would fit into. I could also get some plastic tubing. I meant to go there twice, but I always ran out of time. Yesterday I went to the bank, the post office, grocery store, etc. and I thought I could fit it in. I was in the process of trying to convince myself to go when I had an epiphany.
I had found a replacement “razor pole” and he said thank you, but no. My part was done. I can move on with the other 15- 29 things on my to do list.
Who was I trying to kid? Of course, I didn’t move on! I went to ACE today and told the guy what I needed and what I needed it for. I asked for pvc pipe and plastic tubing. I got it home and after much filing, shoving and twisting etc., I got it to work!
Pheww, that was close! I almost wasn’t able to move on with my life.
I’ve included the blueprint to the “razor pole” below in case anyone is in need of such a high quality gadget.
Allison has been in kind of a funk lately. It’s her age, summer is too long, etc., etc. I have (as is my way) been trying to fix the situation. I get criticism from Allison that this is a “fault” of mine and sometimes she just wants to talk. Point taken and so I usually stay silent. Staying silent in the moment is one thing I can handle, but not trying to come up with a fix as soon as we stop having the conversation is another thing.
I have so many ideas and projects I want to do the list is ridiculously long. I would have to hire an assistant to complete all of the fun things I want to do. So in looking for something for Allison to pass the time, one thing I came upon was a great app called Stylebook. It’s where you take photos of all your clothes and make your outfits for a whole week! She was not interested. I showed her how she can change photographs to really anything with Photoshop. Not interested. I told her about a new Nintendo game app where you have to find the Pokeman in real time, kind of like a treasure hunt. Not interested.
Enter Tristan, my 20 year old son. I mentioned to him I had told Allison about the Nintendo app, but she was not interested. I said it must have been the way I had explained it. A few minutes later Tristan left and went into the living room where Allison was and this is what I heard:
It was meant to be a great week. John and I had not been on a vacation for 20 years! When we decided not to divorce one of the things I asked for was to go to the beach, something I had been promised year after year.
It was off to a great start! The resort was wonderful. We went to an all-inclusive for the usual reason of not wanting to do anything except eat, drink and sunbathe. We saw the dolphins and snorkeled. We ate a lot and drank a lot.
One night we went to a little market that the resort set up with locals to sell us tacky stuff. It was perfect for John. He got a Bronco tiki mask and a three legged stool with Harley Davidson stamped on the leather seat. Of course, that went downstairs with the Harley Davidson side table and the Jack Daniels wooden keg.
After we got home, I left the next day to fly out to visit Emily and the children. It took me a little while to settle in. I had “travelers’ diarrhea” so I wasn’t much fun or good to anyone for a couple of days. After that settled I started to itch. At first I thought it was mosquito bites, but more kept appearing and the itching was driving me crazy! So much so that I went to Urgent Care. Have you guess yet? Yes… I had scabies!!!
In case you don’t know what that is, here is the definition: “Known as the seven-year itch, is a contagious skin infestation by the mite Sarcoptes scabiei.” It is highly contagious. The treatment is EVERYONE that I had come in contact with had to put on a special prescription cream to kill the eggs. Ewww! It still makes my skin crawl (no pun intended) to describe it.
I know none of you know my daughter, Emily. Let’s just say she is a little bit of a germophobe and so is her husband. As you can imagine, being infested with a parasite didn’t go over too well. I not only felt like Typhoid Mary, I was treated a little bit like her. Everyone, including the baby, had to be treated with cream. We washed all of the sheets, rugs, everything that I may have touched. I couldn’t hold the baby or hug my granddaughter. I was pretty miserable.
I still don’t know where I picked it up. It could have been in Mexico or in the airport. I guess I’ll never know.
I’ve only told my family about the scabies. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I still feel a bit of shame. I believe it was caused by what my mother said when I contracted impetigo, “Oh, isn’t that a dirty disease?”
I have been underground again. I didn’t feel I had anything relevant to say for the last few months. I have a certain criteria* of the things I will post.
My post must be:
interesting.
have my unique point of view (I’ve finally put it to some good use).
have an “END” or a clever phrase to wrap it up (wink).
true.
Anonymous. It cannot contain any details that would lead someone to figure out my real self. Literally my name, etc. I know I am either extremely egotistical or completely paranoid that anyone really cares, but nevertheless it is an issue. I have remained incognito my entire life. I think it is one of my “things” that no one except my immediate family knows the real me. The crazy me. The unbalanced me. The totally fucking exhausted keeping up appearances me.
* There has been a flash flood of stories that meet my stringent criteria. Tune in.
I’ve got tickets to the Adam Lambert concert in a few weeks! You can’t possibly know how excited I am! Picture me skipping.
The last concert I went to was U2. Yes, a very far cry from Adam Lambert. Whereas Bono’s lyrics soothe my hectic mind, Adam Lambert’s voice does.
When I found out he was coming to my city, I felt sad and disappointed because I didn’t think I could get anyone to go with me. About 15 years ago I got free tickets to Duran Duran (big fan). I convinced my sister to go with me, but I knew then it was a one-time deal.
That night I, Allison, Tristan and Tristan’s girlfriend, Addie, were in the living room hanging out. I was going to spring it on them, but my timing had to be perfect.
I asked Allison first. She shot me down. I explained how much fun concerts are and she would have a great time. “But not with my mom!” she said. She’s fourteen by the way.
“Tristan, would you go?” I asked enthusiastically. Tristan tends to be a little eccentric sometimes so I really did think I had a chance.
“I can’t go to an Adam Lambert concert! Isn’t he gay?”he asked.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go. I know I’ll be beating the men off with a stick, but I really can’t go by myself, “I said “Anyway, most of the crowd will be middle aged women and teenage girls. See, Allison, we would fit right in!”
Next on to Addie…”How about it Addie? Would you go with me?”
“You bet, I’d love to go! Let me check my calendar!”, and shbegan looking at her phone.
Tristan says, “Addie I didn’t know you liked him.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s gorgeous!”
Wow! I had no idea! Wait, not so fast!
“You like Adam Lambert?” asked a disbelieving Tristan.
“Oh, I thought you said Adam Levine!”
Poor Adam, he is either getting mixed up with Levine or Miranda.
We were all ready to go by 4:30 for the cab ride out to the speedway. I kept checking my phone for weather updates. My forecast read 46 for night time. 75% of the people on our team were from North Dakota and the rest (John and I) had just come from -1. A night time temperature of 46 degrees! I almost wore my swimsuit under the fleece coat, hat, boots, mittens and scarf.
At the speedway, the cars started roaring around the track like something out of Mad Max; armored body and huge tires in the front. The cars left a big billow cloud of dust behind them. It got in my eyes, mouth and nose. I thought at first I was the only one who was bothered until I saw several people wearing ski goggles.
I did so much arbitrary drinking while I was in Vegas. It didn’t matter where or what time it was. I had Bailey’s in my coffee at the track, but then I think it made me nauseous watching the race cars go round and round.
In between races there was nothing to do except drink “coffee” and talk about engines. As much as I love that topic, Ashley kept me interested with tales from the Midwest in a small North Dakota town. Why do I never hear stories like these from my friends? These were really juicy. Pregnancies, infidelity, divorce, custody, drugs and you name it from Jerry Springer and it was happening to someone she knew.
At midnight it was finally over! John called a cab. We were so close to going back to our hotel room! The taxi service said they would be out in 20 minutes so we began walking through hundreds of cars and campers parked in “the pit”. As we arrived at the gate a taxi pulled up. I grabbed for the door handle before the cab came to a stop. After a few comments on how quick the cab driver had gotten there it was obvious we had someone else’s cab. I didn’t say anything! I needed to get out of there…
“Sorry, sucker, I’m taking this cab!”
My sister said I had lost all human decency at that race.
I can only do my laundry in stages. Maybe it’s me or my ADHD (maybe everyone else does their laundry this way and I am being paranoid as usual).
I do it all on Saturdays or Sundays and sometimes both. Sort, wash, dry, fold and put away (SWDFPA). I can’t do it after 4:00 because it will sit and mildew in the washer, too late to get through the SWDFPA cycle. It’s a regimented chaotic system I have developed.
So, at the end of a long weekend day of SWDFPA, I don’t always get to fold the monstrous pile on the bed. That really sucks when one has had their allocated two glasses of wine and decides to finally throw in the towel (no pun intended) and go to bed.
It is a vicious circle, a “Catch 22” if you will. I want to flop into bed because of the laundry yet can’t, because of the laundry.
This is when the fight of wills ensues. Pull all the clothes to one side and go to bed anyway? It’s worked before….. Transfer them to the couch? No, I would be a hypocrite. (My husband puts dried clothes on the living room couch which is the reason I will murder him one day.)
Do you know that folding clothes after a couple of glasses of wine really wrecks a good buzz?
Don’t men drive you crazy sometimes? Whether you are in love with them, living with them, married or not, female or not, don’t they just drive you crazy? As a person married to one for twenty years I will tell you it has been one of the biggest tests in my life to stay with my husband.
The other day I actually sprayed his toothbrush with Windex while I was cleaning the bathroom. It was completely immature, but it gave me great pleasure. He had hurt my feelings, I was mad, but I was too proud to say anything so I did something so incredibly passive aggressive it should go down in the books. Anyway, Windex isn’t that poisonous is it?
I contemplated swishing the toothbrush around in the toilet, but that seemed too clichéd. On the second pass at the sink I felt a pang of guilt so I entertained the idea of rinsing it under the water, but instead I sprayed it again.
anincidentallife.com 
You must be logged in to post a comment.