Jan 14, 2012

I Fought the Door...and the Door Won

Now, my friends might hint that I'm not the most coordinated person out there. Cruel untruths, I say.

I'm the girl that goes down the stairs in the dark, holding a glass of wine, turns her ankle, then in an attempt to save the wine - it seemed like a good idea at the time -, turns her other ankle and falls face first on the ground. Lost the wine and broke the glass, too, just to add insult to injury. So yeah, sprained both ankles and lost my wine.

So today, while getting new linens - why yes, even neighborhood renowned authors have to change their own bedsheets - I was jumped by a door, out of nowhere...and the door won. This is what happened. Exactly.



Out of nowhere - darling husband asked if the bedsheets where the only one owned since they hadn't been changed since last year - I decided to change the bedsheets. So I headed off to our linen closet. Now you have to understand that I've only lived in my house for about fifteen (15) years, so it is very easy to forget where things are. For instance, the fact that the towels are - and have always been - on the top part of the closet and the bedding is on the bottom. So, I opened the top door and stared blankly at the towels.

Hmmm. No sheets. Oh yeah, the bottom.

So I opened the bottom and checked out my choices. I looked up at my husband who was on the computer Googling my name and checking out my Amazon rankings, no doubt.

"Darling," I asked in my dulcet tone, "would you prefer the new imported Italian silk,"...flannel-like Target special that is older than our 4yo..."or the new 6,000 count Egyptian Cotton?"...cotton-like Walmart sale, whoohoo!

Husband looked lovingly, but completely blankly at me. "Yes?"

I sighed. Long. Suffering. Sigh.

Fine, I picked the flannel...err, silk, closed the bottom door and elegantly got up.

Then, out of nowhere! the top linen door ruthlessly attacked me. BAM! I end up flat on my delicate bottom.

I heard my husband moving.

"Everything is fine but you."

Ow. Oowwwwwwww!

"Okay," I mumbled bravely.

After a few silent seconds - or several minutes of whining - I finally got up, glared at the vicious door and went to the bathroom to see the damage. A goose egg, no, an ostrich egg on the forehead and a humongous cut on the bridge of my nose. Something like this.
That's the real me, too. Not a stock photo. Not at all. 



So beware my friends, there are vicious, vicious doors out there just waiting for the right moment to jump at you and attack.

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