There is a God, and She is Laughing.

Better off dead, you’re better off dead/a smile on your lips and a hole in your head. -Bad Religion

Wednesday, I woke up with wretchedly low blood sugar. I’m talking a terrible headache, shaking limbs, a groggy haze about my mind, and a grouchy demeanor. I was miserable. I needed food. I was an angry animal.

My boyfriend, sweetheart that he is, ended up taking me out to the restraunt where we had out first date for a delicious lunch, and afterwards, we went to play some cards and have some coffee at the Beehive. I was talking a lot of smack while we played, still a little groggy and tempermental from my sugar still trying to regulate itself. I’ll admit, I was being outright mean.

It was so bad that at one point Tim told me "I was going to help you take your clothes to the laundromat today, but since you’re being such a bitch, now I’m not." (This comment was no unfounded, I had been acting less snarkey than mean-spirited that day, and I know it.)

So, an hour or so later, with a large plastic bin of clothing, a Bad Religion CD in the walkman, and a defiant "So what, I’ll just have a little me-time" attitude in my brain, I’m walking briskly down the back-streets to get the laundry done. Well, lady Karma is a sarcastic one, and when I fell over the uneven pavement, not only did I scrape up both my knees and drop my laundry everywhere, but I also managed to land in the only pile of dog dirt anywhere on the sidewalks between my house and the laundromat. It got all over my laundry bin, my CD player, half of my clothes, my hands, and the skirt and jacket I was wearing at the time. On top of that, it was the peanut-butter colored and textured kind that made you wonder what was wrong with the dog’s diet, and wether or not the owners had had them to the vet to have that looked at yet.  I didn’t know weather to laugh or cry. (The first thought I has over the situation was, really, "This would make a hillarious scene in a movie, if it were scripted right.") I took a few minutes to gather what I could and process that this really was happening and there was nothing I could do except for tackle the problems one at a time and get over it. I had to sound more a little deranged when I knocked on the door of one of the houses nearby asking if they could spare any paper-towels.

The little old lady who answered the door was adorable. She locked her screen door while I waited outside for her to get some for me, and she even gave me a couple that she wet with warm water first as well as a handful of dry ones, just like my Grandmother would have. She was so sweet, but what she must have thought of me! I was limping from my fall, had doggie doo on my hands, and was still shaking from the mix of adrenaline and irony. I had to be one hell of a sight!

Now, one could only assume that this would be the worst part of my day, but the worst was yet to come. You see, I’m a very proud sort of person, so as I rinsed my crappy laundry out in the sink at the laundromat, still shaking, blood trickling down my shins, and the scent hanging in an embarassing aura around all my things, (and myself, I’m sure.) it was then that the entirity of the situation hit me. I couldn’t put my clothes back into the bin with it all dirty like that. I had laundry detergent to wash it off with, but that wouldn’t cut it for my skinned knees, which, I had to admit, most likely had crap in the wounds too. (If that grosses you out, you should just imagine me gagging over the laundry sink in public when the thought came to me.)

So, within the hour of Tim and I having our first argument, I’m on my phone, trying not to let it touch my face because I have yet to disinfect my hands, voice cracking as it balances the tightrope between maniacal laughter and sobbing tears, telling him to "Bring me some peroxide, paper-towels, and bleach whipes, and I’ll explain the rest when you get here." 

And as a true testament to the caliber of this man, not only did he show up within 10 minutes, he brought the things I had asked for, as well as Naproxen AND my favorite chocolate. And, he wasn’t even laughing when he got there. It was terribly embarassing. As soon as he got there, I stopped shaking finally, but as soon as that stopped, the laughter and tears all came out at once. I laughed and cried while I lifted my skirt and showed him my bloody knees, while I poured the peroxide over the open wounds three times over to make sure they were really clean, and while i scoured my laundry bin with bleach wipes twice over to make sure I really did get every last speck off of it. He managed to go for the first five minutes of the spectacle before he started laughing and cracking scatological jokes. I was quite impressed. I wouldn’t have been able to bite my tongue that long.

He even called up one of his friends to give me a ride back so that I didn’t have to limp home with the laundry bin. I had been able to wash the jacket there, but I still had to get home to change my skirt. The lift was most appreciated.

So next time you’re in a bad mood, and taking it out on the people around you, just remember that Karma will soon give you shit back. Sometimes literally.