Twenty-four hours from right this very minute I’ll be kicking back in my plane seat, reading my fabulous book, glancing out the window every now and then, winging my way to my dream vacation. Hopefully I will be packed long before then.
Since the trip had to be cancelled last year I find myself experiencing a bit of paranoia. A sneeze becomes the beginnings of the worst flu I’ve ever known; Taylor’s allergies run the risk of turning into full blown pneumonia; Katie’s usual bike ride to Dunkin Donuts is just an accident waiting to happen; Todd’s drive back from Princeton could be the most perilous yet. But that’s not the worst of it.
The other day I was in Barnes and Noble, waiting for Cristie, perusing one of the tables, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a mother pushing her young child in a stroller. They were coming my way and I saw a tragic accident play out on the stage that is my mind.
The young woman was fishing in her purse for something, maybe her keys, and didn’t realize the stroller was careening on a path of doom. With my back to the aisle I was oblivious to the danger until it was upon me. The lug nut (is that what it’s called on a stroller?) on the back wheel of the stroller sliced across my Achilles heel, laying me out on the floor of the book store. Above the child’s cries were my screams of pain and despair as I writhed, bloody and in pain. “This can’t happen to me! I’m going to Hawaii Saturday!”
I came back to reality as the stroller passed safely by.
But wait. There’s more. Part of the reason I am not ready to go is because I cleaned my bathroom yesterday. Not the Wham, Bam, Thank You Mam kind of clean. I did the scrubbing the shower doors with a toothbrush and cleaned out the track. A couple different plots played out here.
I was overcome with fumes, passed out and cracked my head on the tile floor.
I was cleaning the hairy, moldy gunk out of the track, was overcome with grossness, passed out and cracked my head on the tile floor.
I was cleaning the door, the sharp edge of which sliced my finger causing me to bleed profusely until I passed out and cracked my head on the tile floor.
Scenario Three almost happened. I did slice my thumb on the shower door and it did bleed without me having to squeeze it – little good that did me. Todd wasn’t here to offer me sympathy which is why I usually squeeze an injury for blood. But I didn’t pass out or crack my head on the floor. And while it bled fairly freely, it wasn’t what I would consider profusely. There was no light-headedness or tunnel vision so it’s all good.
Now if I can just make it to the airport tomorrow without incident.
I must apologize to all my bloggy friends. I haven’t been making the rounds and won’t be getting to it for another couple of weeks. Please forgive a disorganized paranoid.