|
 “Why
settle for sunshine and rainbows when you can have the thrill of a
good old-fashioned bad day?” internet
Why is it that no one bad thing happens at one time? It seems as if
when something goes wrong there is just a cascade of ugly
experiences.
I’m struggling to get all our files in order. To do that, I must
eliminate years of papers that are no longer necessary. It irritates
the bejeebers out of me that I must shred said papers because of the
bandits out there that want to steal my identity. Number one, they
should be using their powers for good, not bad. Number two, most
days I would gladly sit back and let somebody else be me.
But I digress. I have a Black and Decker electronic shredder. I
thought because this company makes tools that this one wouldn’t
overheat as rapidly as some shredders. I was wrong. I can only put
about two sheets in at a time. Yes, I tried forcing more pages in
and ended up with the dang thing squealing and shaking at me. I took
it apart and soothed its little automated soul. I promised I would
diligently bore myself to tears by numbly handfeeding paper into
this black box forevermore.
It didn’t take long for the overheated light to come on. With an
exasperated sigh, I stood and promised myself and my Lord I would
remain calm. Mind over matter. An inanimate object would not get the
best of me.
“If life doesn’t break you today, don’t worry. It will try again
tomorrow.”
I stretched and looked for the noise coming from the next room. My
poor little 13-pound Augie Doggie was limping pathetically around
the basement. Upon trying to corral him, he sprinted up the stairs.
Having sat while shredding…. and being old……my sprint did not match
his. After much stretching and lurching, I made it upstairs and
wrestled him into a headlock in the dining room. The poor baby had
thread wrapped around his back leg. Lots of thread. I had to carry
him around in my search for scissors to properly correct the
catastrophe that had befallen upon him. I finally got him untangled
and he ran off in a huff as if I had deliberately done the damage to
begin with. Little ingrate.
I then decided I better follow the offending thread to its
beginning. I pulled and tugged and followed. As I walked throughout
the upstairs, the pull became stronger and fiercer. It was if a
smallmouth bass was relentlessly fighting me pound-for-pound. I was
rather fearful.
As my trek led me back down the stairs I was amazed at the strength
of the thread. It showed no signs of breaking or backing down. To
add to my bewilderment, I could hear sounds of something threshing
around down in my basement. It was rather frightening yet alarming.
Imagine my surprise when I reeled in my 13-pound cat, Fergus.
Somehow, he had gotten a spool of thread wrapped around himself and
in turn, had lassoed Augie Doggie by the hind leg. Having sheathed
himself to my swivel sewing chair, Fergus was silently bound by John
Deere green thread roping him as if to be branded. I didn’t know
whether to laugh or cry.
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He was even less agreeable to be cut from his restraints as Augie
Doggie was. He hissed and spit as I tried to calm him down. Finally,
the little darling was free, and I received one final spectacle of
feline teeth and spittle.
As I sat in my chair to congratulate me on my big rescue operation,
I smelled an unpleasant odor. I looked at me feet and my heart sank.
Evidentially Augie Doggie had poohed in fear of being tied up with
his brother and had a bit of bowel distress. I had plowed right
through it with both feet as I was bumbling around rescuing my pets.
Yep. I could follow every one of my steps……in the basement…..on the
stairs……upstairs. I. Was. Unhappy.
I scrubbed, disinfected, wiped and scoured until the feces was
eliminated from sight and smell. I went to my sewing area and
straightened the spools of thread so my felines and my canine would
not be lassoed by thread again. I sat back down at the shredder
which had scared my pets and started this entire massacre to begin
with. The animals hate the sound of it. I imagine I put out hormones
and messenger molecules from my body that emit anger and
exasperation. My furry babies were back into the fight or flight
mode. Heavy sigh.
“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”
Pastor Charles R. Swindoll.
I decided my reaction to this event was to unplug the shredder,
cover the sewing machine, shut off the basement lights and shut the
downstairs door. A nice cold glass of white wine finished that
decision.
I remember a time when the boys all still lived at home. I was doing
the laundry. As I shook wrinkles from jeans at the clothesline to
pin them, a corner of the leg snapped me in the eye. It was
extremely painful. I ran into the house for Mac to look at my eye.
He was filling the washer on our enclosed front porch with another
load and somehow overloaded it, and water and suds were running out
our front door. Our son was mowing our yard which was actually a
hill. He came in to see why suds were flowing down our front steps.
I had a swollen face, Mac was standing in suds and water, and horns
were honking like crazy in the street outside. The lawn mower had
taken on a life of its own and rolled down the hill into the road
and stopped traffic.
“Who needs a perfect day when the imperfection of a bad day can make
for a more memorable experience?”
L. Maxine McQueen may be contacted at
maxmac.1@juno.com
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