So all of a sudden, the 2nd month of 2009 is almost over, and I'm just now realizing that I haven't written a non-Rumours of Another World post since last year (and yes, I did just use a double negative. I decided I'm allowed to do that every couple of months here in Sarah-world.). Obviously, I need to remedy that situation, and what better way to do that than with a humorous account of the past month that allows me my full range of snarky, irreverent expression?
Now, I know I referred to the past month, but for the sake of my brevity and your sanity, I'll focus on the events of a couple of selected days during the past month...events that should once and for all put a cork in any argument over whether or not I am one of the clumsiest, unluckiest inhabitants of God's good green earth. At least, that's the conclusion I've come to in my own mind. I invite you to continue reading and judge the truth of the above assertion for yourself.
So about a month ago, I went to the doctor and had a physical. (I also briefly considered renaming my blog www-dot-pap-smears-are-the-DEVIL-dot-com, but I refrained.) I had previously made plans with my mom to visit her after my doctor's appointment, but I got out of the clinic a lot earlier than I'd anticipated, and when I called my mom I found out she was still on her way home from Cleveland. She told me where to find the spare key to her house, so I thanked her and hung up.
Since I don't have a car, I travel everywhere in this town by bus, which for the most part works pretty well for me. However, when it's less than 20 degrees out with a thick coating of snow and/or ice on every visible surface ~ i.e., sidewalks, driveways, streets, etc. ~ and one has to do a lot of walking on said surfaces in between the bus stop and one's final destination, public transportation becomes, oh, let's say, quite a bit less appealing. That was definitely the case on the day in question, seeing as how the quickest route from the nearest bus stop to my mom's house required me to navigate a completely road-salt-forsaken Arctic minefield of polar ice caps that doubles in the summer as a sidewalk cutting across a large park.
Now, a reasonable person put in this situation might have chosen to walk around the park altogether, but 1) I have never claimed the exalted status of a "reasonable" person, and 2) I was in a good deal of pain that walking only served to exacerbate, and therefore my own, uh, unique brand of personal logic dictated that the fewer steps I took, the better, potentially life-threatening though said steps turned out to be.
Eventually, I reached my mom's house and trudged through the snowdrifts around back, where the spare key was hidden. I then took it upon myself to spend the next 15 or so minutes poking, prodding, and prying around the hiding place without success. Now normally, I'd just laugh it off, since I have never been any good whatsoever at those hidden-object-finding games, whether in books, on the computer, or in reality. In fact, I am almost as visually challenged as I am directionally challenged, and trust me when I say that is saying a heck of a lot. By now, however, my shoes, socks, and jeans were soaked, and I was freezing at the teeth-chattering level and very unhappy, so I called my mom again. I spent a few minutes on the phone with her while describing my surroundings in hopes that we could find the key together, to no avail.
Finally, having hit rock-bottom-last-straw territory, I called my dad at work, since he'd come up with the idea about exactly where to hide the key. I then discovered that I'd spent the past 20 minutes looking for the key in the wrong section of the hiding place. For the next few minutes, I managed to restrain the colossal urge to elbow-beat the side door into oblivion...which I may have done anyway had I not FINALLY found the darn key. It was so well hidden that I swear no reasonable person or one of those burglars my parents worry about, let alone a visually challenged, pain-hazed Sarah, could have found it. Like, ever.
The next morning I woke up, still in pain and very tired from lack of a comfortable position to sleep in the previous night. So it would naturally figure, of course, that I had something very important on my schedule for which I had to look halfway decent ~ namely, a job interview. Which, of course, was extremely crucial for me, since I'm a temp and had already been out of work for about 6 weeks at that point. Yep, I have the best luck in the world. Heck, make that the entire smackin' solar system.
So I got through the job interview without fainting or saying anything incredibly stupid, which again is saying something, especially given my nerves and pain level. Next stop: downtown and my bi-weekly appointment at the plasma center. Now, since I had to do a good deal of walking to get there, you'd think I would have brought along some comfortable, flat-soled shoes to change into after my interview, since I possess an exceptional propensity for stumbling and falling over every little thing in tarnation. But no, it never occurred to me beforehand, and sure enough, on my way to the appointment, I stepped off the sidewalk wrong and twisted my left ankle. Granted, the only thing about this that surprised me was that I had twisted the left ankle, since in the past, I had always twisted the right ankle when being clumsy, but apparently my ankles desire equal-opportunity twisting a bit more than I ever gave them credit for. And at least it gave me a new source of pain to take my mind off the pain I'd been feeling since the previous day's doctor's appointment. Hey, when you're blessed with my uniquely bad luck, you learn to be grateful for small blessings.
Now hobbling, I eventually made it to my appointment at the plasma center. A couple of hours later, I hobbled back out and stopped at the local Taco Bell for supper. Then I left to walk to the library, where a friend of mine was picking me up to take me to setup duty for that weekend's church-sponsored clothing swap. At this point, much like the previous day during the spare key hunt, I was cold, tired, in pain, and fed up in general. After all, the day (and week) couldn't get any worse, could it?
Wrong. Less than a block out of the Taco Bell, while traversing one of downtown's most pedestrian-heavy thoroughfares, I lost my balance and twisted my left ankle again, this time collapsing in a heap from the pain and completely unable to get out. Yes, that was exactly the type of notoriety I've always wanted: being sprawled out on the sidewalk in the middle of downtown State College, getting treated to the sight of passersby looking at me unsure of whether I'm having a heart attack or just plain crazy. Now, to give them credit, a few people did stop and ask me if I needed any help, but I was too embarrassed and in pain to do anything other than grind out a brief "No, thank you."
Eventually, however, I realized that 1) I really needed to get to the library to meet my friend on time, and 2) I couldn't very well keep on taking up the middle of one of the busiest sidewalks downtown, so I reluctantly accepted help from a group of very nice young men ~ emphasis on the word group, since it ended up taking all 5 or so of them to pull me (and my backpack) to my aching feet. After thanking them profusely, I limped the rest of the way to the library (I couldn't very well ask aforesaid nice men to lift and carry me on their collective shoulders, after all), where I met my friend just in time to flop into her car and declare my undying idiocy and hopelessness.
Some week, huh? Nothing could top it, right? So I thought...completely forgetting, of course, that I have a special talent for being wrong when it comes to being mindful of the sheer breadth and depth of my innate clumsiness and bad luck. Stay tuned for Part 2.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
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2 comments:
Hi Sarah! I'm so excited to see you have a blog. There are many FCCers out here in blogworld.
Hope all is well with you!
Where's part 2?! This is good stuff and you've left me hanging!
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