Wooden Nickels

Posts Tagged ‘debacle’

Getting out the door today was a debacle. The signs were all there: I didn’t heed them. I paid the price.

I woke up feeling like I was wearing someone else?s skin. Soap in my eyes in the shower ? Dr. Bronner?s is the worst ? and I hopped out of the shower without rinsing my hair out well enough, and had to hop back in to rinse it. And then the most bizarre sign of impending doom: I forgot to make coffee this morning. How is that possible? How can a man forget a ritual he?s lived with for 20 some-odd years? This should have been the sign that told me something was up. But I trundled on: Jackson and I were ready, it was time to go, and it was too late to make coffee.

So I washed up the dishes right quick, toweled off my hands, hung up the towel and deftly knocked the cutest little vase in the world with a sunflower in it off the window sill behind the sink, shattering it in the sink. I think Emily really liked that vase. But she didn?t freak, ?cause she could see I was already kinda losing it. My brother Mark ? were he there ? would have said: ?Smooth move, Ex Laxx.? And it was: like biggest knucklehead move ever. Well, almost; read on…

So we roll. Jack and I say goodbye to the girls, grab our gear, and hit the van. Jack buckles up and whips out his Nintendo for the drive to Mill Valley and school. I buckle in and run down the pre-flight checklist, note with a twinge the appalling lack of coffee in this morning?s transportation equation, and realize that I?ve forgotten my watch. Off I go, back up for the watch, and find Emily with it at the top of the stairs ? she knew I?d be coming back for it when she found it on the kitchen counter.

Back in the van, we drop it in ?D? and move out, me thinking about two things: where do I stop to get coffee, and who do I need to call en route to school ? there?s always a return call to make in the mornings. Hold it: my phone?s not here… breaks, shove it in ?R,? and wrangle the rig back to the driveway, slam in in ?P,? ramble back up the stairs, grab the phone, back in the van, drop it in ?D?… Jebus Hurcule Crimmeny Cracken on a bicycle: how many signs does a man need? I note to Jack as we pull out for the third time: ?Today is the kind of day where the world is telling you not to leave the house.? Would that I had heeded my own intuition. Men don?t listen to their intuition well the way women do… but I digress.

We?re on the road now, I?m running through all the coffee shops between home and school in my mind – I rarely need to stop for coffee, as I make it myself at home. I?m thinking about maybe putting a positive spin on the already bungled state of affairs by scoring a nice mocha or something, my eyes are on the road, and suddenly all of the traffic ahead of me is stopped dead. But I?m still moving 25-30 mph. I hit the brakes at about the same time I hit the car ahead of me. Things are blurry for a sec, and then the smoke from the deployed airbag starts to fill up the cabin of the World?s Sexiest Minivan. I?m putting the window down, checking out Jackson in the rearview ? ?You okay Buddy?? ? and he?s cool as a cucumber. Me though? I?m on fire! I look down through the smoke issuing from my steering wheel and airbag, and my right hand starts to burn ? some kind of smoke burn or chemical thing is burning the crap out of my hand!

I?m out of the car in the street, I check in with the woman in front of me: she?s okay, shaken, but not injured. I grab the ice pack out of Jacksons? lunchbox and apply it to my swelling hand, and dial 911. Cops (who were actually cool, it should be noted), insurance peeps on the cellie, tow trucks… the World?s Sexiest Minivan looks fairly well totaled. I haven?t heard the estimate yet though, so hopefully she can be repaired. Emily came to get us after the circus of cops and tow trucks had gone. The woman in the other car ? Jan ? is nice as pie, and gives me a couple of hugs, and some sage advice about taking care of my hand.

Jack and I took the day off. I fielded some time sensitive emails, but tried to lay low. It was hard to type with my hand burning like a mofo. I shoulda seen the signs: they were numerous and overt, and indisputable. Sometimes our sense of responsibility overcomes our common sense, I guess. That?s how I?m couching it to myself anyways.

Stay tuned for updates on the fate of the World?s Sexiest Minivan. And heed the signs ? all of them. Omens, hunches, street signs, etc. They?re there for a reason.