Last night I was attacked by three slices of watermelon. I managed to fight them off but not before the fruit inflicted significant collateral damage to my pants. I sure hope my laundry spray can remove the pink stains.
Watermelon is a slippery thing to hang onto at the best of times. Thanks to an MS flareup way back in 2010, I have reduced sensitivity in my hands, and it feels like I’m wearing mittens. This was a classic case of me dropping something not just once. Oh no. I can pick up and fumble with an object several times before it inevitably hits the floor. The TV remote, the weekly menu, a fork or a potato chip. Sometimes when I manage to pick something up, I’m tempted just to throw it on the floor because that’s where it’s going to end up anyways. I was rather proud of myself this time because each slice of watermelon fell only as far as my lap without actually hitting the floor.
A few days ago I managed to avoid a major oops disaster involving a small jug of moms sitting on my desk next to my laptop. (I couldn’t resist their glorious, russet colour. I often buy myself $8 bundles of flowers from Sobeys. I figure my mental health is worth it.) One stem had died off prematurely and the three or four dead blossoms were harshing my buzz, as they say. I tried to pull the stem out. It came up a little. I tugged again, somewhat harder. The stem came up further but this time the jug rocked a bit.
At this point it would be helpful for you to know that I’d just finished my lunch, and the plate was still on my lap. Fortunately, I’ve learned a thing or two about gravity since I dumped an entire mixing bowl full of pumpkin pie batter on my lap and down my shins, seven or eight years ago. This time I increased the “tilt” setting on my chair so my lap was actually slanted back and there was no threat of the plate sliding off my knees. No need to remove it.
I steadied the jug with my left hand and pulled on the stem with my right – the good one. Unfortunately, the top-heavy jug rocked and then came down on its side, spilling water across my desk.
“Ohhhh F-BOMB!”
I fumbled with the jug several times before I managed to pick it up and slide it across the desk. There was just enough room for it on my plate. I went to my little kitchenette and somehow put the jug in the sink and the plate on the counter. I grabbed a tea towel and soaked up the water.
I categorize this one as a minor disaster because I was able to do the cleanup on my own and no harm was done. The water never reached my laptop or the pile of papers next to it. It could’ve been much worse: my favourite blue and white jug on the floor and smashed to smithereens, the poor flowers in a watery heap amidst the shards of pottery.
Kommentare