The Dropsies
I didn't have a clue where my story would go today, but somehow it took off, and I got another 1500 words on top of the 2100 I ended up doing yesterday. There are some elements I didn't expect, but as long as the story keeps moving, that's fine with me, even if they do seem clich�.
That's my good news. I have way bad news that wasn't actually foremost on my mind the past couple days, even though it is most bad. It's probably best I had other things going on, like Halloween, the band's CDs being delivered and the start of my novel, or else I might be moping to the nth degree. Hopefully I won't send myself into a deep, dark depression by writing about it now.
On Halloween, I seemed to be afflicted with better than average clumsiness. I'm always clumsy and awkward, but I can usually keep damage to a minimum. I often get bruised and scratched up because of this problem, but my stuff doesn't end up broken most of the time. Not so this Wednesday. I wish I were sporting a big, purple bruise instead. I really do.
Halloween day, I had errands to run and things to do, because I put everything off until the last minute. In the case of Booie's class party, I literally used every last minute, arriving late for the costume parade at school. But before that, I managed to drop the sugar bowl, spilling sugar all over the floor. Since everyone knows the characteristics of sugar, I'm sure it's not hard to imagine the state of my kitchen floor since this major spill. Add some really cheap peel-and-stick tiles (complete with metallic gold flakes; Hello, 60s!) that have up to 1/8 inch wide gaps in between, and it's a recipe for a sticky mess, no matter how much sweeping you do. I wasn't even going to attempt mopping, because, like I said, time was not on my side, and I hardly wanted to be coating the floor in the syrup that resulted from mixing sugar and water.
The next spill of the day was in the bathroom. Might as well take care of more than one room, right? As I shook the bottle of makeup I was about to apply, it slipped out of my hand. That wouldn't have been much of a problem had I shook the bottle while the cap was still on instead of covering the top with an applicator sponge and holding it there with my finger. The bottle didn't just want to fall straight down either because, of course, I was shaking it. So it flew as far as a makeup bottle can fly in a broom closet sized bathroom, hit the wall, then the trash can, then the floor, then the vanity. And you better believe that bottle was almost brand new too. There was makeup all over the wall, trash can, vanity, toilet, me, door, floor and even behind the toilet in that half inch gap between the toilet and the wall. I always wanted to stain the grout on the bathroom floor, but Nude Beige isn't exactly what I had in mind. I thought I cleaned up all the makeup, but every time I go into the bathroom, I end up getting makeup on my pants, shirt, arm, or shoes from someplace I missed. I considered grabbing the shower hose and spraying the whole bathroom down, but I'd just be furthering the growth of the killer black mold I suspect is lurking.
Dropped item #3 occurred in the kitchen again. This one was minor compared to the other two, so maybe it didn't count for the "things come in threes" superstition. Or maybe it foreshadowed the breaking of other items in the future, because up until that point, nothing was broken, only spilled. This time, a glass was the casualty of my knocking a jar of cinnamon off the shelf when I pulled out a measuring cup. The cinnamon fell onto the glass, and a big chunk went flying across the room. I was happy the whole thing didn't shatter, because it still had milk in it. I thought maybe my luck was on the upswing. If only.
I got my pop bottle bowling assignment done in the nick of time to haul all ten two-liter bottles and two gourds up to school as fast as my aching ankle would carry me. I caught the end of the costume parade, so I could take pictures of Booie on her way in the building. The digital camera had a blank card in it, so I was free to snap at will, and I did. I took tons of pictures of Booie getting wrapped up in toilet paper during the mummy game. I took pictures of the other teams, pictures around the room and a picture of Booie bowling with a gourd. As I went to set the bottles back up for the next kid, I lost the grip on my camera. Usually I have the strap around my wrist, but I must have felt confident I wouldn't do such a silly thing as drop my camera on a linoleum floor. Unfortunately, I'm constantly being reminded that yes, I am the clumsiest, dumbest person on the face of the earth, and the digital camera suffered for it. I brushed it off, put the camera aside and set up the bowling pins.
Later, when I thought I'd like to take another picture, I grabbed the camera, opened the cover and realized the consequences of being a clumsy, dumb person. Nothing happened. I tried it again, because that's what dumb people do. Still nothing. I tried to view pictures, and the one I took of Booie in grand bowling form did pop up on the screen. At least I didn't totally bust the thing, but because I am dumb, I tried to open the cover again. Yep, you guessed it, because you're smart. Nothing happened. I could have broken down and started sobbing right there, but I'd already proven to all the other smart, responsible moms that I was the biggest loser there, so why be redundant? I put the camera away in my bag and plastered a big, fake smile on my face. I only had fifteen more minutes to go.
Had I not had a bum ankle, I would have dragged Booie home on winged feet, though I probably would have dropped her on the way and broken her too, so it's best I did have a bad ankle. I hobbled home and immediately went to work at home troubleshooting what might be wrong with my camera. It looked ok. There weren't any obvious dents or dings. The display still worked, and I'd imagine that's the most expensive thing in the camera, so that was a plus. I figured it had to be some kind of sensor that got knocked loose, so I did what all experienced technicians would do. I banged on it. As you can imagine, that didn't work. I was lucky to find the display still working after my expert attempt to fix it. I then popped the cover off and immediately started losing parts, so I had to scour the carpet for all the missing pieces before putting it back together. And of course, it still didn't work.
Next stop: web site. I looked there, and it told me to take the batteries out for 24 hours to allow the circuitry to reset itself. I still have two hours to wait before a full 24 has passed, so I have yet to see that that solution probably won't work either. The next step is to send it in to the company for repair that will probably cost as much as buying a brand new camera. I hate myself.
Because I'm a bad girl, I momentarily thought about going out to buy a new camera just like this one, switching out the two and taking the broken one back. Since the angel on my shoulder can kick the devil on the other shoulder's little red ass, I filed that thought away under bad ideas you better not try. Now I'm just waiting for 6:30 PM to arrive and praying to the digital camera god that I just rattled the camera's little brains rather than shredding them to bits. I still have hope. The camera doesn't rattle, even after I banged on it.
You know, serendipity might seem like a really nice word, until you apply it to my life. I told denicutie over at 3WA that I would take a picture for her birthday on November 1st. As I'm sure you already guessed, I planned to take a digital picture, but that got thrown in the can by my act of grace. I pulled out the old trusty 35mm and snapped a photo with that instead. Poor camera will probably ruin that picture since I've neglected it for so long. I've dropped it several times, and it still works like a champ. I just shouldn't allow myself near technology. Or sugar. Or makeup. Or glass. Maybe John should just keep me in a pen. Oh wait, I'm already in one!
NaNoWriMo Update
WORD COUNT: 3642
Today I got rid of:
Oh crap! I didn't do that. Hang on...
One digital camera (kidding!)
Some school papers I always let stack up
More newspapers
A whole pile of stupid ads
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One year ago - Ten, Eleven, Twelve...
I had friends. I really did!
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One Year Ago Today:
