20 November, 2009

i am a one woman smack-down!

remember that worry i have? of dying* from something entirely stupid and preventable? turns out it's completely justified!

last night i left work in the pouring rain, which, as it happens, has nothing to do with the story, but sets the mood admirably, no? i walked to my parked car, fumbled with the bags of stuff in my hands while attempting to unlock the door and, as i went to get in, smacked myself in the face with my lunch bag filled with not one but two heavy glass containers. i now have a welt on my cheekbone and strangers shoot me sympathetic glances (well, they ought to but haven't since i am still sitting on the couch in my bathrobe, surfing instead of breaking fast or working out or any of the number of things i ought to be doing but am not on account of being a battered lump of low self esteem.)


* i know i have written about this at length elsewhere in this blog and i did my utmost just now to find it and link to it for any poultries-come-lately but no luck. recap: although i am a dental hygienist who routinely pokes sharp pointed instruments into the unarmed delicate mucous membranes of the general public and who does it well, i am a gobsmacked klutz when it comes to slicing my hands with kitchen knives, getting deep cardboard cuts and tripping on perfectly smooth surfaces which will one day finish me off in a ridiculously embarrassing way. now you know.

1 comment:

Michele said...

At least your fear of dying scenario involves having a good laugh, even if it's at your own expense, after your own death (let's just say that's possible)!

My fear of dying involves plunging into the water in a vehicle and knowing that I don't have the strength to push open the door against the pressure of the water, and I cannot calm down enough to sensibly look for a sharp tool in my glove compartment, because now the water is past that point and is murky and I cannot see. I am helpless and I am alone and I cannot get out. I have a couple of inches of space, I take a breath and then I have nothing but fear and panic and a painful sensation of my heart pounding in my ears. Then I have no breath and I have less than nothing, and a fade-out of the rest.

OK... See the difference? My death is no fun. Yours is. I'm walking over to your side, babycakes.