Do you ever have those moments right when you are about to make a mistake, crystal clear visions in which you see how what you are about to do will backfire, but then you do it anyway? I have those moments all.the.time. And you’d think I’d learn my lesson. But nope. I just keep on keepin on, making mistakes and never learning any lessons, except perhaps that I will never learn.
It happens most often with the alarm clock. I hear the distant buzzing growing louder and louder, forcing me awake, and as I stumble out of the bed and my fingers reach for the snooze it happens, I see myself two hours later waking up to the clock blaring and the time well past when I was supposed to be at work (and yes, I DO actually get up out of bed, hit snooze, then return and go back to sleep. I know, I know). But you know what, I always end up hitting snooze anyway and sure enough, I don’t hear the alarm clock when it rings again ten minutes later and I end up late.
Then there was the trash bag incident. One evening in a random fit of cleaning I emptied out some old food from my fridge into a trash bag, which I tied up in my kitchen to take out when my boyfriend arrived. He came over and instead of taking the bag straight to the trash shoot not 100 feet down the hall, we decided to run to the convenience store down the street first. As we were heading out the door I spotted the bag out of the corner of my eye and thought: Rasputin. But the entire trip would take less than ten minutes, I rationalized, and he had already eaten that day. He wouldn’t, I promised myself.
But, oh, he would. The initial carnage wasn’t that bad to pick up, as it appeared he only wanted to eat a stick of expired butter and a raw egg. So like I was saying, the first cleanup wasn’t terrible, just a couple napkins, a butter wrapper and an eggshell. But what followed was. epic. I’ll spare you the unpleasant details, but let’s just say that it didn’t take long for Rasputin’s little snack to turn into my big mistake. My big, stinky, disgusting, barely digested mistake. Damn me.
And finally, this last one will surely make you smile. Or least give you a better understanding of the tragi-comedy that is my life. Thanksgiving day, 2009. My first Thanksgiving spent in Charlotte and the first holiday I was spending with my boyfriend and his family. No pressure. Getting dressed that morning I sought my comfiest, roomiest pair of jeans for a day of eating at the casual celebration. As I was zipping them up, my thumb ran across some exposed metal on the button and FLASH, there it was, a vision of my button, which had been loosening for months, popping off at THE most inopportune and embarrassing time.
You can probably guess what happened next. I opted to where the jeans which really are were the comfiest, roomiest pair I had, promising myself that there is no way that after years of ownership and months of precariousness that today would be the day the button decided to give up. There was.no.way.
Fast forward past a delicious breakfast, 5 or so cups of hot apple cider, spinach dip, cheese balls, and a delicious Thanksgiving spread. My pants were still loose and soft. I excused myself to bathroom, and no sooner had I touched the button did it fall off into my hand. Of. course. I couldn’t help but laugh a little which, coming from the inside of the bathroom, probably sounded bat-shit crazy. But it was just too funny. We had just finished dinner. And since my pants weren’t exactly tight, I couldn’t rely on turkey belly to hold them up. I would have to ask for a safety pin.
Ladies, have you ever had to have a discreet conversation with your boyfriend, or rather, have you ever tried to have a discreet conversation with your boyfriend that ended up being a non-discreet conversation because he told everyone what was going on? That’s exactly what happened next.
Meck: Baby
BF: Hold on
Meck: Ba-by. Please.
BF: What?
Meck: I need a safety pin.
BF: Why?
Meck: Because the button fell off my jeans.
BF: You lost your button? hehehe. Oooh poor baby. hehehehe.
Meck: Ba-by.
BF: Ok, mom do you have a safety pin? Meck needs one. She lost her button.
BF’s Dad: what’s going on?
BF: Meck lost her button.
BF’s Dad: Hey, Meck, eat too much at dinner huh?
Meck, holding up pants: *sigh*
I think I’m ready to make my first new year’s resolutions for 2010. #1 listen to my instincts. #2 invest in new jeans.
Been there, done that with the alarm clock myself. Many, many, many times. And yet here I am at 1:00 AM up surfing the web.
You’re far from alone when it comes to ignoring instincts!
umm… I am with you on those “discreet” conversations. It usually starts out with me whispering, “baby… c’mere.” and then him shouting, “WHAT? WHAT’D YOU SAY?” as we stand in front of a group of people. Seriously? You can’t just whisper back? Nope. Too hard.
Hi. Thanks for sharing, enjoyed your post very much. Bookmarked your blog and looking forward to reading more.
Terry
Please understand the differences between “where” and “wear”
Oh man, guess I’m going to have to look that one up. While I’m working on that, why don’t you find something better to do with your life (notice the correct usage of “your”. I must be some kind of genius)
Something better? I think I’ll go drinking. Care to join me?
Sorry Meck, Men are incapable of discrete conversation. I work in an office with 17 women and I’ve tried so hard to learn to speak their soundless lip language–you know, when they get real close, tilt their head down and then say something that barely qualifies as audible, and you’re supposed to watch their lips and figure it all out? Yeah, can’t do that. Can’t do it.