THE URBAN ERMA: "ONE OF THOSE DAYS"
Have you ever had one of those days? Mine started the night before last when I fell out of bed. I wish I could say I was doing something fun when it happened. I was simply sitting crossed-legged on the edge and leaning over to plug in my phone. I overextended just a little and gravity made me regret not springing for thicker carpet.
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I didn't have far to fall and it happened fast. I only had time to say "Woooo!" and it was over. But in that surreal, slow motion way that’s depicted so well in the movies I had time to think:
I'm not falling am I?
Is this really happening?
Oh crap! This is really happening!
My grown, black ass is falling out of bed!
This is some shameful shit!
(Yes, I’ve been watching The Wire on DVD, and some of Senator Clay Davis' expressions have become my own.)
Of course, I landed with my legs still underneath me so my knees, calves, and the tops of my feet took the brunt of the fall. The impact was loud but it didn't wake anyone but my Dog who seemed supremely annoyed that I’d disturbed him. He looked at me as if to say, "You know, this wouldn't happen if you just slept on the floor like I do." Then he got up and walked away. He didn't even have the decency to come over and sniff me to see if I was okay.
I unfolded myself and assessed the damage. Although my left foot really hurt, my bruised but still intact Vanity wondered, "Will I be able to wear those new boots I bought?" Priorities people. Priorities.
The next morning I hobbled out of bed, lots of errands to run, but not 30 seconds into the drive I heard a horrible grinding sound coming from the right side of my car. That sound said:
"This is not good. This is going to be expensive. This is going to cut into your boot budget."
On the bright side, I wasn’t far from my local mechanic. He heard me coming from down the block. As I pulled into the station he said, "I guess you want me to check that out." I tried my best to follow along when he told me everything that was wrong. All I really heard was, “Right, front brake … hose … caliper … parts and labor … $300. You want me to fix it?" I just nodded my head. I didn’t have a lot of options. I couldn’t drive around sounding killer whales on a mating spree. And in a way, I counted myself lucky. Had I taken my car to the Honda Service Department my bill would easily have been double.
An hour and a half later, I was back on the road, Dog in tow, heading to the vet. My Dog had given us a big scare last week. He was vomiting, not eating, and the Vet’s X-ray looked bad enough to warrant a sonogram. (This might explain His Lordship’s surliness when I’d interrupted his sleep with my inconsiderate fall.) We feared cancer but thankfully, extra tests ruled that out. However, on top of having dry skin, a bad thyroid, arthritis, and glaucoma, my Dog is now … wait for it … anemic.
My Vet said the best thing for anemia is liver. Not liver treats, not liver snacks, real liver. And we then had a five-minute conversation on the best way to shop for, prepare, and cook liver for my Dog. Too bad I’d already spent most of my liver money at the Mechanic.
So, at the end of the day, car fixed, old Dog reasonably healthy but still old, I settled in for a very sexy evening of doing laundry. No sarcasm here. Occasionally, I remember to find joy in the little things like clean clothes.
I was on my second load of laundry when I noticed the water on the floor. Yes, my washing machine was now leaking. I’ve got a call out to the Maytag Repair Man and I’m hoping it's just a hose and I don't need a brand new machine. I don’t want to dip in on the money I’ve ear marked for liver. But the way things are going, a new machine may indeed be in the offing.
When my head started to throb in time with my left foot — the one I’d fallen on less than 24 hours ago — I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. A simple bowl of cereal would suffice. Thankfully I had a full container of milk in the fridge. Too bad it had expired on August 26th.
Son of a bitch!
I was going to throw the milk away but it occurred to me that I might now be destroying an entire civilization. And maybe that’s how we got started. If there’s such a thing as a god, maybe He/She/It/All of the Above was having one of those days and never got around to throwing the milk away. You know: The Milk Creation Myth. I know what you’re thinking: Maybe when I fell out of bed, I hit my head as well.
The next day, this gave me a lot to talk about with my therapist. She was nice enough to give me a little extra time in our session. But more time with her meant not enough time on the meter and now I have a shiny new $115 parking ticket that’s cutting into my Boot, Car, Liver, and Washing Machine Fund.
Voltaire once said, “Any fool can survive a crisis. It’s the day-to-day living that wears you out.” Volti, my man, you ain’t never lied.
Tonight if I fall out of bed again I’m just gonna lay there and think about returning my boots, sharing my Dog’s liver, finding my MetroCard, and using more Febreeze until I get my washing machine fixed. And maybe, whatever is evolving in my milk container will worship me as its all powerful, sexy-boot wearing, hard-driving, dog-owning, mother goddess, and it’ll take up a second collection for my new washer-dryer.
Yeah. I think I need my head examined.
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