The following is a totally true and not at all embellished story that happened to me JUST NOW. The ENTIRE episode lasted no more than about 2 minutes, not including the 40 minutes leading up to it. I knew I needed to write it down because it was too ridiculous not to share with the world, and in all honesty this kind of thing can only happen to me. I originally started to write it as a facebook post, but it kept getting longer, and I figured why limit this story to just my friends list? I hope you get a good chuckle out of it. Also, for what it’s worth, I am totally fine, and there’s no lasting damage.
The first thing I did when I got home from a long morning volunteering at my sons’ school was to put the kettle on. I didn’t get my caffeine fix this morning, and I was gagging for some tea. I threw the kettle on the stove and came over to do some work on the computer. After 40 minutes went by, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t heard the kettle whistle. I went over to check on it and saw that I hadn’t properly closed the spout, so it had boiled and splattered EVERYWHERE but hadn’t whistled.
Boy am I an idiot, right? But wait! There’s more!
So I grab a cup and pour in my water, a teaspoon of sugar and some milk and bring it back to my desk, anticipating the lovely first sip. I wait a few minutes for it to cool and then happily slurp up a big mouthful. Boy, this tea tastes really weak! I can’t even tell what flavor it is. Well yes, Katie, that will happen when you forget to add an actual teabag.
Clearly it is not my day. But wait! There’s MORE!
I dump out the cup and put in a teabag. Fill it with water and sugar and milk and stir it up. I bring it back to my desk, savoring the deep cinnamon and ginger smell of it. Intoxicating. I distractedly pick up the cup and bring it to my mouth and gasp in pain! I have left the spoon in the cup, and as I brought the cup to my mouth, the spoon stabbed me in the eyeball.
WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!? But wait! there’s MORE!!
The surprise of the spoon in my eye leads me to drop my tea, which spills ALL OVER MY LAP, scalding me, and ALL OVER MY DESK, ruining several important papers AND a drawing I was working on. ALL the swear words I have ever heard come pouring out of my mouth, and I started running around the house screaming and fanning my nether regions. Because clearly the best thing to do in this situation is to wave my hands at my crotch. That’ll definitely fix it, right?
I consider running out into the snow to cool off, but I haven’t had any caffeine yet, and my brain isn’t working so well. So instead, I grab a bottle of Evian that is sitting on my desk and pour it over my hot and steamy vagina. This of course coincides with the exact moment my doorbell rings. The unexpected noise makes me scream, and the water bottle slips from my fingers and onto the floor. I hear the mailman hollering through the door, “Are you okay,” and I make to step over and open it to reassure him I am indeed okay when I remember that actually… my crotch is on fire. So I pivot on the spot, stepping into the puddle of water that has now spilled onto my floor, and my foot slips out from under me, and I hit the floor HARD.
The mailman is now banging on the door yelling, “Miss? Are you alright? What’s going on?”
At this point, I am staring at my ceiling thinking, “I just wanted a cup of tea.”
I manage to do a self-assessment and realize that I am not hurt from my fall. My lap has also cooled down enough for me to be able to think clearly, and I decide I’m not as badly burnt as I first thought. I quickly stand up and reach for the door. As I’m pulling it open, it suddenly hits me how I must look. I’m standing there, soaking wet in my pants, looking like I must have urinated all over myself. The mailman takes a step back in wonder at my clearly incredible visage, and he stammers out an “Are you alright?” I assure him I’m just wonderful. I literally can NOT think of the words to explain what just happened. He looks me up and down skeptically. He looks past me into the house as if trying to find some rogue who is keeping me hostage or beating me. He furrows his brows uncertainly, and I can see that he is weighing up what to do. He’s got a lot of packages to deliver, it’s cold AF right now, and it snowed again last night. He can’t really afford to play the hero, and anyway I’m standing here smiling like a crazy lady trying to pretend everything is totally normal, even though I know that in a few moments I’m going to have to go and peel my jeans off and hope that my thighs don’t peel off, too.
Finally, he nods at me and says, “Okay. Well… you take care of yourself now, okay?” I nod enthusiastically. Of course, of course. I’ll be sure to do that. Of course. I am a grown ass woman. No need to be concerned.
He leaves, I shut the door, and I turn around to assess my work area. Luckily everything on my desk is salvageable. My drawing is ruined, but it wasn’t that great anyway. I think I’m going to go and relax on the couch and just watch some TV or something. I deserve a break. And a cup of tea!