This morning began like any other. I woke at five, said “hullo” to the blackbirds and the starlings, dustying their wings upon the lawn, warmed up my heatpack, made some gluten-free porridge and bunkered down for an indulgent early-morning write.
At six thirty, my STOP WRITING alarm sounded, and I went to the shower. All normal (except Veronica and Lewis were my morning DJs, instead of Tom and Alex. Which is fine. I like Veronica and Lewis). It’s what happened after the shower that made my day go a bit wonky.
See, we’re a budget-conscious bunch here at the Gordon residence, so when I noticed I’d left the CD player on after last night’s Iron Maiden / Adam Harvey Megamix, of course, I raced over to turn off the powerpoint.
And it was at the exact moment that I did so that a very heavy, very old chunk of wood, belonging to my late aunt, snapped its very old leather hanger and fell, ricochetting off my late aunt’s lamp and landing on my noggin with a hearty and very painful thwack.
Auntie Shirley, wherever you are, I don’t know what I did to annoy you this morning but OW!
And also, which god did I rub the wrong way in a previous life? HB had only just moved that lamp. If it wasn’t for it, the wood would have missed my head and landed with a soft thunk on the carpet.
But there was lamp, and so there was thwack and blood nose and bruised temple, and HB had to take the day off work because I was convinced I was going to do a Patrick-Off-Offspring and start talking about babies with a big grin on my face before suddenly going to join the choir invisible.
Now? I’m okay. I have a splitting headache, but I’m typing so I’m evidently not dead. Tiger had a bit of a wonky old day and I’m sure my stepbrother thinks I’m a numpty and the real-estate agent thinks I’d been necking the vodka, but I survived.
And the moral of this story? Don’t save power, don’t tick off dead aunts, don’t get up so early in the morning, don’t peeve luck gods, don’t watch Offspring, and when life gives you lemons, put them in the fruit bowl and eat a Freddo Frog. Or six. As I have today. It helped. Or at least, it didn’t hinder. And perhaps that was Humpty’s problem. He got the King’s horses; he got the King’s men. He just forgot the chocolate.