A Genuine Menace

I should’ve just gone back to bed. I should’ve called it a day. Hidden somewhere safe. Zipped myself up in a bubble suit, and rolled into a padded broom closet. I know it’s usually a room but, in a pinch, the minimalistic solution will work just fine.

Mm, yeah let’s go with a closet with extra cushioning and a lock. You know, for added security and peace of mind. Oh, there should be a slit in the door. No, not for oxygen, though it’s a good idea and I’m glad you thought of it. I almost forgot that I needed to breathe. See! I’m a hazard to myself all ready.

Right, so a slit in the door for breathable air, and snacks. Maybe a hose? Snacks make me thirsty, and I should stay hydrated. Air. Food. Hose?

What’s the hose attached to? Uh, I don’t really have a preference but please be kind. I know quite a few smart asses who’d… Well, you know, ew. Hook the hose up to something suitable for human consumption and make it yummy. Um, maybe something that goes well with snacks?

So let’s see, we’ve got a bubble suit and a padded closet. Snacks and yummy drinks. What else? Entertainment! Right, boredom leads to fidgeting, and fidgeting always makes these situations worse. Fidgeting gets me into a lot of trouble so let’s avoid any further fidgets.

Have you ever said a word so much that it stops sounding like a word? Fidget. Fidget. Fidget. It sounds like I’m speaking Latin. Who speaks Latin nowadays? On no! I sat still for too long. My contemplations are causing an itch. An itch to, you guessed it, fidget and this is when things go horribly wrong.

Am I the only one who’s had a day where everything goes wrong? I’m not talking about a bad, no good, horrible day. Bad days are a dime a dozen, especially this year, and they’re something to endure with a glimmer of hope that better days are on the horizon. Bad days happen, but the day I’m talking about isn’t one of those days, per-se.

Oo, now I am speaking Latin. Fancy.

No, my inner werewolf wasn’t trying to make a bid for freedom. I didn’t get drunk on beaver milk. I’m fine, at the moment, but I think I experienced a bit of a glitch. A hiccup in my programming. I’m not sure if it was a coding issue or if some wires got crossed while I slept. Either way, I had a day where I couldn’t function according to factory specifications.

I couldn’t coordinate my limbs. My mind and my body weren’t on speaking terms. I was a little more absent-minded, clumsy, and accident-prone than usual. Oh, and I’m a clumsy one, Mr. Grinch. 

On a normal, average, no-nonsense day I accidentally injure myself once, maybe twice, during the eighteen hours I’m awake. I’m working purely on the bruise count here. I’m so clumsy I barely notice the slips, bumps, and scratches. I wake up, check for new bruises, and try to figure out where they came from. What can I say? It’s a hobby. 

The day I’m talking about was quite exceptional and I don’t mean that in a fantastical way. I woke up in the morning and I had a feeling. It was an alarm bell in my gut. Screaming at me. Telling me to stay in bed. Don’t risk it! It’s not worth it. Stay where you are for the foreseeable future.

Did I listen? Sigh.

To be fair, every morning I open my eyes and think, “This again? No, I’m staying in bed. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to be a person today.”

If I stayed in bed every time I had that thought then my body would become one with my bed. Melded together for eternity. A new form of life. A bed-person? No, there’s gotta be a better name for it. Why can’t I think of a better name? Think. Think. Think.

Nope, nothing, and I refuse to become a mattress. I just can’t do it. It’s so…Off-topic.

The urge to stay in bed all day is always there, and every day I ignore it. I peel myself up, swing my legs over the side, and mutter a lot of incoherent words that, I assume, contain a lot of profanity. That day, the day that will go down in infamy, was no exception but it really should’ve been the one time I caved. Why wasn’t it the one time I caved? Arg!

I got out of bed without looking, because my eyes were too busy talking to the manager. It’s cruel, that’s what it is, expecting eyes to focus and pupils to dilate. Not at this time of the day! It’s inhumane. The sun’s barely up and you expect us to see clearly. Ha! That’s right, my eyes ha’d at me. My own eyes ha’d. Well, aren’t we’re off to a great start?

My eyes laughed, and I tripped over my damn cat who, coincidentally, decided to dart from under the bed at that exact moment. No, she’s wasn’t trying to kill me. Nope. Uh uh. Then again, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and she’s staring at me. Just staring and licking her lips. For a second, I wonder if she’s thinking about eating my face. Then she purrs and I know, with absolute certainty, that she’s contemplating my demise.

The cat darted, I tripped, and I landed face first in a pile of dirty laundry. I really should get on that or I’m going to have to air dry my entire body. What will the neighbours think? Screw the neighbours! This was my chance. The warning shot. I could’ve listened. I should’ve listened. Alas, with a dramatic sigh, I called my cat an asshole and got to my feet.

The bed was behind me, and the bedroom door was in front. A choice was made, and it was a choice I’d come to regret. Fist to the heavens, head thrown back, and with all my might I yell, “Why?” Why didn’t I go back to bed?

Yeah, I’m being very dramatic. Overly dramatic? Quite possibly but it adds flare. I love a little flare. 

By 12:36 pm, I’d slipped in the shower twice, slipped on the bathroom floor three times, and almost fell over towel drying my hair. I’d opened my front door a fraction of a crack before realizing I didn’t have any pants on. Then, you guessed it, I nearly fell over putting my pants on. I walked out of my front door, and got all the way to the lobby before I realized I wasn’t wearing shoes. After putting on my shoes, I left my apartment for the third time. Did you know you can’t lock your front door or start your car without keys? Go figure. 

If you’re counting, it took me four tries to successfully leave my apartment.

At this point, most reasonable people, would’ve taken the hint and found a safe place to lick their wounds or count their losses. It would seem that reason had abandoned me because I kept going. I broke two cups, tripped three more times, and shattered my apple watch. Did I get the warranty? If only you could see my face and hear me sigh.

Thankfully no one else was hurt in the making of that day, but by the end of it I felt like a complete menace, and seriously started to question lady luck. Okay, I don’t know if I believe in luck, or fate, or the stars doing things when other things are in retrograde. Clearly, I’m an expert. Yes, that was sarcasm and I know you know that, but this is the internet. One can never be too careful on the inter-webs.

Inter-webs is a fun word to say.

I’ve heard people say that there’s no such thing as luck. Life comes down to hard work and perseverance. I’ve also heard people say that hard work and perseverance will only get you so far, and luck takes you the rest of the way. My mom always told me to get out of my head, and watch where I’m going. I don’t know about the first two, but my mom’s a smart woman and, in this case, she’s probably right.

I’m a very heady person and, by that, I mean I spend far too much time inside my own head. I get lost in thoughts, daydreams, ideas, and riddles. I follow a rabbit down a hole, and I lose hours of my day. I forget the outside world exists. I look through things and people. I walk around in a haze because I’m so busy trying to get a straight answer out of an overdressed rabbit.

Most days I catch myself, and heed my mom’s advice. I write out my rambling thoughts, questions, or riddles so I can solve them with you. I let the rabbit run in the open air so I don’t have to get wedged inside another hole. It’s safer for everyone, but mostly myself because when I get lost in my head, bruises form.

As I follow the rabbit through a maze of twisted roots my body tries to keep up. How can a physical being keep pace with an imaginary creature? It can’t, obviously. Which is why I walk out of my apartment without pants on or try to start my car with my toothbrush. It’s why I break an overpriced watch, think my cat is a homicidal maniac, and why I’ve run out of cups.

Trust me, making tea in the palm of your hand is inadvisable.

I really like my rabbit, it asks interesting and provocative questions, but maybe I can leave some questions unanswered for a little while. I don’t have to follow every thought or solve every riddle. Oh, that makes me want to sigh dramatically, yet again. It makes my eye twitch! Ignoring an intriguing flight of fancy? I mean, that seems a little extreme, but it sure beats tripping over my own feet. 

Or am I making a rather large assumption?

If my assumption is true, does it mean that, instead of pulling my head out of out arses, I need work the other way round? I’m not sure how that’s physiologically possible. Should I do yoga first? You know, limber up a bit before I give it a try. I don’t think I’m flexible enough and, honestly, milking a beaver sounds easier.

Damn it, now my rabbit is bouncing up and down waving its top hat. Not this time you little menace. I won’t follow you…Oo shiny.

Ouch! Not again.