Well, as you know, it has been several weeks, and my refrigerator still smells like I have hidden a dead squirrel in it somewhere! I searched on the Internet for solutions to my problem, and am going to try keeping coffee grounds in the fridge to fix it. The stench is so strong that neither baking soda nor vinegar could get rid of it. I hope I will not have to finish out the rest of my teaching career with a stinky fridge.
Another series of events has also recently caused me to feel dire discomfort. I have always been accident prone. I constantly discover bruises on my body for reasons I don't remember, run into desks, hit my funny bone and stub my toes. However, things appear to have gotten worse lately. The craziest things happen to me. Perhaps it is because I am oftentimes in a dream world and do not pay attention to what is going on around me...
Last weekend's unfortunate events started as we were having a drink with the other football parents on Friday night after we arrived in Rapid City. One of the fathers from Oregon brought some special wine made at his friend's vineyard for us to sample. I really enjoyed it until I knocked my cup over and drenched my clothing with the special drink. Luckily, it was white wine, so my clothes weren't permanently stained burgundy. Everyone saw it and teased me about wasting good alcohol. The adventure continued with breakfast the next morning. I carefully made my waffle, following the posted directions with a deliberateness formerly unbeknownst to me. However, when the time came to put my perfectly cooked waffle onto my plate so that I might enjoy it, I struggled with the difficult task of removing the waffle from the maker. As I flipped the waffle out of the machine and onto my plate, it slipped, and fell towards the ground. I tried to catch it, but ended up with one piece of waffle in my hand and the rest of it stuck to the side of the garbage can. Of course, several people witnessed this event, much to my embarrassment. The next day, I went to Menard's with Randy and Brady. As I entered the store, I pushed on the turnstile with my hip to make it move out of my way. It didn't budge however, and I yelped in pain. Randy worriedly asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. After several minutes, the pain went away and I forgot about the incident until I noticed that my hip was really hurting this morning. I looked at it to see if something was wrong, and discovered a large and dark bruise. The last straw was when we went to Wendy's on Sunday night. I went to pick up my drink and take a sip of it. My hand bumped the cup, knocked it over, and proceeded to fill my lap up with Diet Coke. Once again, several folks witnessed my accident and I had to walk to the front of the store with drenched pants to request a rag to clean up my mess. The next evening, I barely escaped dumping the amazing homemade pizza I had just created onto the ground. I caught it, but burned my hand in the process.
Since then, I have kept a low profile. I figure that I need to lay low until I have recovered my coordination and ability to pay attention to what I am doing. Sadly, this may mean that I have to sit on the couch for the rest of my life or cover my body with bubble wrap before I can leave the house again.
