The last week or so has been pretty big. We took our oldest daughter to visit a
college and then we celebrated our next in line with a birthday dinner.
As we climbed in bed and snuggled in for the night, my
husband and I were talking about the day.
My skin has been really dry, so I commented that perhaps I should take
some vitamin E, which he found to be amusing, because I rarely remember to take
any vitamins. (Fortunately, I don’t have
any health issues that require me to take medicine regularly, as I would forget
to take those too.) He asked me if my grandma had recommended that I take a
vitamin E. I said no, but it seemed
likely that she would be the person who would say that.
As a child, when I would spend the night at grandma’s, the
next morning I would have a vitamin C, a vitamin E, and an almond waiting with
my breakfast. My husband then asked,
“Why an almond? Like a peanut?”
To which I replied, “No. Like an ALMOND.”
He said, “Well, I didn't know if you meant like the nut, or
something else.”
I replied, “I didn't realize that almonds came in any other
form!” and began to giggle.
He then said that he was done with the conversation, and I giggled
myself to sleep.
This week at work I had a wardrobe malfunction. My first
thought was, I wonder how Janet Jackson would handle this situation. I mention her only because of the area in
which I was having the malfunction. While I didn't actually reveal any skin, I
did happen to notice that I was a little more, let’s say, comfortable than I
should have been. I looked down and
noticed that one side was hanging a bit lower than the other side. (At which point the song “Do your ears hang
low, do they wobble to and fro” played in my head.) The problem was that I had no time to go and
try to figure out the problem. I chose
to ignore it and to stay busy, that way no one would be able to notice that anything
was out of sorts.
After going to lunch with a friend, and then to the store (I
kept my coat on), I got home where I could properly investigate. The bra that I had chosen in the dark that
morning was already having issues. One
wire in, one wire out, then somewhere in the course of the day, the strap broke
too. Not came undone -- as it was a convertible bra that could be
switched around --- no, it just plain broke.
This was the straw that broke the bra’s strap, and it was retired to the
trash. I will be shopping for a new
favorite very soon.
I asked the teacher I work with the next day if she had
noticed my wardrobe malfunction. She hadn't. Which leaves me with the
question: Which is worse: having a
wardrobe malfunction of this magnitude, or having one, but no one can
tell? Think about it.
I injured myself twice in the past two weeks, both times
while attempting to prepare dinner. The
first time I couldn't find the can opener that should have been in the counter top kitchen tool spinny thing (the technical
name for it). I proceeded to go
searching through drawers to find it, and sliced open my thumb on an apple corer (it’s sharp
without its cover, which is probably also hiding in the drawer). Then I whacked
the top of my hand on the corner of the counter, so I got to go to school with
a round bandage on my hand; you know, the kind you would put over a wart (Hello granny, can I help you?)
So as you can see, I’m very gifted when it comes to food
preparation and all things domestic. Not.
Shall we discuss how I keep putting
clothes in the dryer, in an attempt to remove wrinkles from our clothes,
because if I use the iron, I will burn myself?
I am incapable of ironing without causing bodily harm. This would also be why I have short hair, so
I don’t have to go near a curling iron.
Friday at school while walking out to the playground for
recess with the children, I tripped and fell.
There is a place in the sidewalk that is uneven, a fact I am aware of
and have made a mental note of. Friday however, as I was walking out with my head turned, telling the children I would
help them zip up their coats, I tripped over the raised-up sidewalk. While they were asking me if I was OK, the
only thing I could think was, “Mr. Kimble, are you all right?” (From Kindergarten Cop, “It’s not a tumor!”)
I did manage to pick myself up and finish out recess
duty. After the children were safely in
their classroom again, I informed the teacher that I had fallen and would be
going to take care of that. I went to the
office to tell the social worker that I had fallen down, and that I would
require a bandage. She took me to the
nurse’s office, and on the way there, poked her head into the principal’s
office to inform him of my mishap. He
told her to get some Neosporin.
When she couldn't find it, he came in and wanted to see the
area in question, which was my knee. (I
then started doing a mental calculation as to the last time I shaved my
legs. I am married and it is cold. I knew it wasn't that morning.) He then proceeded to bandage my hairy knee,
himself. He didn't notice the hair,
though, I’m pretty sure, as he was simultaneously talking to a student, and the
social worker, who commented that I was biting my jacket and shaking. The good news is I can now bend my knee, so Christmas shopping should not be a problem.
So my first accident report was on me, which is par for the
course.
I find all of it quite amusing. I am accident-prone obviously, but I am also
very blessed. Even with all the silliness that is my life, it all makes sense
to me because I know I’m in the right spot with all the right people.
1 comment:
Thanks for the smiles at the end of my day.
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