Life comes hard and fast; be ready for anything.
Those of you who've been here before are familiar with the above phrase. It's become my personal motto or the slogan that defines my worldview and the general guideline for my life. Those of you who hang onto every word I write on this blog know all about Princess Amy, the spoiled brat who controls my amygdala, the gatekeeper of my emotions, especially those emotions on the fringe of acceptability for civilized society.
The story I offer here today will serve as an excellent example of the fresh hell they bring into my everyday existence. If you're new here, don't be concerned, I'll spin the fresh hell to make it amusing if not amazing.
Yesterday morning, on my way to the Episcopal yard sale in Shallotte, I stopped at Jumping Java for a cup of the steaming brew-ha-ha. The desire for a bit of Jah's sweet mercy had a bit of topspin brought on by a natural urge well-known to old men.
So far, it probably sounds quite simple, and straightforward but, due to a particularly mischievous prank orchestrated by the harpies, I stumbled into a chain of events that will go down in the annals as one of my most memorable blunders.
I entered the door of the caffeine emporium, where I was greeted by cheerful baristas who called their view halloos across the floor. After placing my order I made my way to the restroom, blissfully unaware of the comedy of errors awaiting me.
With a sense of precaution (or so I thought), I employed the toe of my shoe to raise the toilet seat and in that way maintain a semblance of cleanliness; a reasonably sensible act, don't you agree?
As I lifted the toilet seat with my foot, I was surprised to learn that only one side of the seat was held in place. In an unfortunate twist of fate, my shoe slipped a little too far into the hoop of the toilet seat leaving me standing on one foot without any other visible means of support. Time slowed down, which is usually the case just before disaster strikes. I think it's the Universe's way of rubbing it in.
As I desperately tried to regain my balance, the inevitable occurred, and particle mechanics demonstrated the deterministic nature for which it's so well known. With a loud crash, the toilet seat detached from its porcelain throne, and I fell into the wall with a boom-cacky-lacky-lacky that reverberated throughout the previously serene coffee shop.
As fate would have it, the manager rushed to the scene and called through the closed door to ascertain my degree of health. Well, we Genomes maintain the sang froid of chilled steel in situations like these and I explained the calamity while offering an apology for the damage I'd done.
To my complete astonishment, the manager responded with a surprising laid-back remark: "Don't worry about it," he said, "happens all the time."
I'm not sure what you make of his remark but, as for me, I doubt that ripping the seat off the toilet is something that happens on a regular basis. However, with a view to returning to a semblance of normality as soon as possible, I decided to give the whole subject a miss. Still, the incident left an indelible mark on my memory, serving as a reminder that life has a unique way of humbling us when we least expect it.
Or put another way, life comes hard and fast. Be ready for anything.
I'm tempted to take myself too seriously sometimes. That's exactly why I've been away from this blog for so long. Hiding from the slings and arrows has left me practically a recluse for the last few months and that isn't mentally healthy. So once again I've resolved to share my life experiences with you, even the embarrassing ones.
In the act of laughing at myself, I hope to find the freedom to live my life fully and completely. I think of it as living big. The idea is that if I fill my life with the actual experience of living, rather than regretting the past or anticipating the future, there will be precious little room left for doubt and fretting.
Once more, I invite you to share the absurdities of life with me. After all, we're on this journey together. Please leave comments about your own bugaboos. When I hear from you, it lets me know that I'm not alone and I like knowing that you're here with me.