ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY THREE…stop, look, touch and smell

173 A (1 of 1).jpgIt’s a cool 54 degrees as I sit out by our campfire in Tillamook, Oregon.  10:30 in the evening and everyone but little ole me is sleeping snug in their warm beds. I savor the opportunity (to reflect on our days) the nighttime gives me. I am just out enjoying a glass of wine thinking about earlier today when Greg was helping me do laundry. We pulled up to the laundromat and as I opened the car door, I made a mental note of the slippery parking lot divider curb thing…but the mental note eluded me as I proceeded to get out of the car, ultimately slipping and falling on the slippery parking lot divider curb thing.

It happened so fast.

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One side of my brain (while I was in the process of falling) was like, “OMG, you saw the divider…and your still falling?” While the other side of my brain was like, “OMG, what is happening?” I quickly made it to my feet with my heart pounding and my left palm bruised and bleeding. I wasn’t hurt or anything. I glanced around to get an idea of which angle I need to play my, “Oh I think my keys went under the car…I was just checking…but no, there they are…in the ignition” reaction to.

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Of course, the girls in the backseat were completely oblivious to their mother falling to the ground. Greg was busy getting the laundry out of the backseat (thank God), he hadn’t witnessed it either. Seeing me go down like that would have worried him and once he found out I was ok, he would have been completely annoyed. He knows I am a flighty, clumsy, type B, head-in-the-clouds kind of gal…but instead of laughing about it with me, he just stares at me…like I’m an extra terrestrial. Never mind the fact that he was the one, who 7 months ago launched our only set of car keys soaring down the vortex of an elevator shaft…

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I digress…

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There was however, the one lone laundromat attendant who, by the look on her face, most likely saw everything. It was as if ink was appearing on her face and it was reading, “dang girl…did you just learn how to walk today?” I was going to walk in and be all, “Haha, I just learned to walk today” but as soon as I crossed the laundromats threshold, I lost my nerve. She looked like she was having a bad day. I felt as if I had done my part to make this ladies day a little brighter. Now she had evidence that someone else may have been worse off than her. We went on for the next 10 minutes ignoring each other as most individuals in laundromats do. I desperately wanted to ask her if she saw the whole thing…but decided my energy would be better spent dividing up the darks from the lights.

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My heart was still jacked, palm still bleeding and my legs were still shaking…and I was in the process of separating the laundry when I pulled out Abby’s sweatshirt. I noticed something felt wet and slimy. My first thought was, “Oh crap, I’m bleeding”…but when I stopped, looked, touched and smelled my palm I quickly came to the realization that I was touching butter. Upon further inspection of the bright pink Biltmore sweatshirt, I located a round plastic container of half masticated butter, presumably from the seafood restaurant we had patronized the night before.

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Yes folks, not only was butter oozing out of the kangaroo pockets it was also smeared all over one whole side of the sweatshirt. I then looked up to read a note purposefully placed on all washers which read, “please do not put grease of any kind in the washing machines.” Is butter grease? It’s kind of greasy…we use it to cook…it’s grease isn’t it? My brain was having the hardest time processing the information it was receiving. “Oh feck it…it’s going in” and I threw the damn thing in.

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I nervously sat for 24 minutes examining and holding my bloody and bruised left hand, expecting the washing machine to explode because I had knowingly put in an article which contained “grease”. 24 minutes later, the washing machine was still intact and just ending the spin cycle and the clothes (including the bright pink Biltmore sweatshirt) came out looking and smelling brand new.  But I never really answered the question…Is butter a form of grease…and further more, what will grease do to a washing machine?  In time, the cosmos will present an answer to this most thought-provoking question, my palm wont be bleeding anymore and all will be right with my world again.

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Meanwhile, my words of wisdom on this frigid Tuesday night from the coastal town of Tillamook are, “Stop, look, touch and smell…taste only if you have to”

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Good night.

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