Blinded by the light
On Friday night after work I had several drinks with the gang at Redline followed by even more drinks at my favorite local dancing dive near my house. Two things that are very funny after a few cocktails - one, letting people try on your glasses and two, demanding the DJ play back to back ABBA and then proceeding to dance like an idiot, all by your lonesome, on the dancefloor.
But, guess what isn't so knee slappingly, belly bustingly hilarious?
Waking up the next morning realizing you lost your glasses and the only thing you can see clearly is the vision of yourself from the night before doing high kicks to "Take A Chance on Me". Needless to say I am still free because no one in the right mind would have dared to take a chance on me at that point.
Considering I had ran out of contacts and I wouldn't be able to get any for a week and my old, crappy, spare specs were at the office and far be it from me to be responsible enough to locate my key card, I was pretty much screwed for the weekend. Fortunately, I didn't have any major commitments on Saturday and even relished in my handicap for awhile - I couldn't do laundry, dishes, or anything that I usually dread doing on the weekends.
Sunday, however, I needed to attend another wedding shower (along with my mother, Jude) so I had to get my shit together at least as much to dress myself somewhat decently. Late as usual, I ran around the house trying to get ready.
As I made my way down my hardwood stairs in only my nylons, a flash of black, presumably Nickels the cat, caught the corner of my eye. I shifted quickly to avoid stepping on her and ended up slipping then sliding and eventually crashing into a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Nickels, more than likely never in danger to begin with, immediately ran to me and began purring then kneading at my back as she curled up in a comfortable ball despite my cries of “go get help, girl!”.
I indulged myself in self pity for a moment, but then carried on despite the sharp pain in my side, because I was now running even later. I made my way to Jude’s apartment, directly below mine, and told her:
“I fell down the stairs and almost died….”
“Wow”, she said, “I thought I heard a big crash. But then I heard crying….is Nickels okay? You didn’t land on her did you?”
“No, the crying you heard was me. Because I fell down the stairs and almost died….”
“Oh”, she said, “is that what you’re wearing?”
I realized at that moment that Jude was never going to shine in the the role of “Elderly Mother of a Handicap Adult Child”. It was obvious that I was just going to be an embarrassment to her at the shower and that she’d probably spend the day gazing at all the normal adult daughters wishing she didn’t have to accompany me to the bathroom because if she didn’t I would more than likely walk into the men’s room or take a shit in an elevator.
But we went, and everything was fine. Jude hung by my side and didn’t even flinch when I took the hands of people I have known for years and introduced myself as if we had not lived next door to each other for 20 years or went to school together for 10 or we gave them a ride to the shower that morning.
Happy Tuesday everyone.
But, guess what isn't so knee slappingly, belly bustingly hilarious?
Waking up the next morning realizing you lost your glasses and the only thing you can see clearly is the vision of yourself from the night before doing high kicks to "Take A Chance on Me". Needless to say I am still free because no one in the right mind would have dared to take a chance on me at that point.
Considering I had ran out of contacts and I wouldn't be able to get any for a week and my old, crappy, spare specs were at the office and far be it from me to be responsible enough to locate my key card, I was pretty much screwed for the weekend. Fortunately, I didn't have any major commitments on Saturday and even relished in my handicap for awhile - I couldn't do laundry, dishes, or anything that I usually dread doing on the weekends.
Sunday, however, I needed to attend another wedding shower (along with my mother, Jude) so I had to get my shit together at least as much to dress myself somewhat decently. Late as usual, I ran around the house trying to get ready.
As I made my way down my hardwood stairs in only my nylons, a flash of black, presumably Nickels the cat, caught the corner of my eye. I shifted quickly to avoid stepping on her and ended up slipping then sliding and eventually crashing into a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Nickels, more than likely never in danger to begin with, immediately ran to me and began purring then kneading at my back as she curled up in a comfortable ball despite my cries of “go get help, girl!”.
I indulged myself in self pity for a moment, but then carried on despite the sharp pain in my side, because I was now running even later. I made my way to Jude’s apartment, directly below mine, and told her:
“I fell down the stairs and almost died….”
“Wow”, she said, “I thought I heard a big crash. But then I heard crying….is Nickels okay? You didn’t land on her did you?”
“No, the crying you heard was me. Because I fell down the stairs and almost died….”
“Oh”, she said, “is that what you’re wearing?”
I realized at that moment that Jude was never going to shine in the the role of “Elderly Mother of a Handicap Adult Child”. It was obvious that I was just going to be an embarrassment to her at the shower and that she’d probably spend the day gazing at all the normal adult daughters wishing she didn’t have to accompany me to the bathroom because if she didn’t I would more than likely walk into the men’s room or take a shit in an elevator.
But we went, and everything was fine. Jude hung by my side and didn’t even flinch when I took the hands of people I have known for years and introduced myself as if we had not lived next door to each other for 20 years or went to school together for 10 or we gave them a ride to the shower that morning.
Happy Tuesday everyone.
Labels: Family
posted by Betty Blog at 11:42 AM
3 Comments:
Thank god Nickels is OK! :)
Take a shit in an elevator, Thats class!!!!!
I don't know how long Nick is going to be okay if she continues to try to boot out of the house everytime I open the door!
taking a "tinkle" in an elevator just didn't seem as funny to me, as classless as it is.
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