I Love Lucy!

So, prior to this morning, I thought the kind of stuff that has befallen me only happens in movies, or on I Love Lucy. I guess I was wrong. It has been THAT kind of morning. Pretty funny, if it weren't me.

It started off with the ever present squirrels in my attic waking me up, as they dueled. There is some serious Gladiator action going on up there that I would pay big money to see. If it was behind a screen and I was covered head to toe in protective, squirrel-proof gear, I would pay to see it. Seriously though, I can hear them fight, complete with the sound of pounding and thudding as they hit the floor, locked in little mini squirrelly headlocks. I can hear them chattering, arguing back and forth with one another, as they fight. I'm sure somewhere in there are some pretty crude squirrel yo' mama jokes. I just don't want to have to meet any of these street savvy, tough squirrels in a dark alley, or back behind the garbage dumpster.

So, as I'm lying in bed, mildly amused and yet still annoyed that they live up there, I decide to glance into the living room at the clock. 8:08, umm, I love my duvet. I roll over, warm and toasty, tucking my feet under the blanket.....what?? 8:08??? I have to be at work in 22 minutes. OHGOODNIGHT!!!! Yeah, that's how my day started out. I guess this means no Starbucks this morning. Oh sad.

I don't think I've ever flown to work as fast as I did this morning. I am not even going to admit to my average MPH going down 35W, but let's just say if it were years, it'd be a ripe old age. So far so good, though. I mean, I pull into the parking lot, only 6 minutes late technically. As I'm rushing up the walk, purse slung over my shoulder, tall boots under cropped jeans, Gap scarf flying out behind me, I actually could pass for a sophisticated, Type-A New Yorker, on a mission. That is till I miss the handle of the front door, and actually walk into the glass, smack my forehead (which surprises me, because that's not usually the thing on me that gets hit first). I'm standing there, stunned, with what will soon be a lovely little red goose egg on my now throbbing face, rubbing my forehead in pain and shock, as I look inside the glass doors and see three people including the receptionist huddled around the front desk laughing at me. Nice. Thanks guys!!

What was I supposed to do but be cool, open the door calmly, and walk in to face the music? Good morning to me!

So, as I head up to my desk, trying to act cool, thinking I still might actually look cool if no one notices the Pinky & the Brain style boo-boo now developing on my forehead, I pass cute Tech Boy's desk. As I'm walking, I thought I'd wave, kind of nonchalantly, in a devil-may-care fashion that masks the fact that I really do have a crush on him. As I wave casually, and turn my achy head to see him, I am disappointed to find there's no one at his desk. But there is someone standing right next to it, who then proceeds to ask me "Who you waving at??". Ummmmm, just keep walking. Pretend like you didn't hear that.

Now, here's where it really gets good people. We're building up to the grand climax! Get ready, because here we go.

I approach my little cube, finally relieved to be in somewhat familiar and comforting territory. As I set my stuff down at my desk, I think to myself, "Hmm, I probably should make a bathroom run to check out the cranial damage." So, with my purse still in hand, I walk over to the restroom, not expecting anything more can go awry. Boy, was I wrong. I walk into the restroom, and set my purse down on the counter, check out my forehead, reach into my purse for a little powder to cover the redness, use it, put it back in the purse, and as I do, the cuff on my shirtsleeve catches the handle of my purse, and the whole thing drops to the floor, spilling make-up, my phone, my wallet, everything in that kitchen sink, onto the tile.

One item however, quickly becomes the catalyst for mass hilarity. As my belongings spill rapidly out of my purse, onto the floor, my Bare Essenctuals “Warm” blush container hits the wall across from the sinks, the top pops off, and brick colored powder splays itself graffiti style across the whole wall. Then, it hits the floor, and since it’s in a little round container, it spirals across the area in front of the sinks, trailing brown powder in its wake. Spiraling, it continues to the low point in the floor, which happens to be in the handicapped stall, all the while leaving a trail of blush everywhere it touches, like the tail behind a shooting star. As I survey the damage, it looks like someone brought an airbrush gun loaded with burnt sienna paint into the bathroom and opened fire. There is makeup EVERYWHERE! Including all over my jeans leg, and my new boots.

Panicky, I grab a handful of paper towels and hit the floor, trying to mop it up, only spreading it out more, and making a bigger mess. I wet them, and that seems to help. I circle my way around the bathroom, praying no one walks in, and the end of my trail leads me to the handicapped stall. I clean, I scrub, I grab more towels, I wet them down, I scrub some more. And when I’m done, minutes later, I throw them in the toilet (not thinking obviously), and hit flush. Only to watch the toilet water, now a beautiful dark amber color, start to back up, as the toilet begins to overflow.

What could I do? I had to laugh. I just stood there, watching it fill, surveying the stall for a plunger, finding none, and all I could do was chuckle. Ha ha ha ha ha. And then I reached my hand into the toilet bowl, grabbed what paper towels I could and pulled them out, dripping brownish-red toilet water all the way to the garbage dispenser in the other part of the bathroom. My hand dripping, mixing toilet water with makeup on the floor, creating a beautiful brick colored mud that reminded me of Native American paintings.

The mess that begin with a bump to the head has now become a full fledged disaster area. My hand was covered in the murky mess of makeup and toilet water. The floor has a lovely brown tint to it. My head is throbbing. My purse contents are still on the floor in front of the sink. And I’m standing there, in the midst of it all, clocked in, laughing.

That was my morning. After many more minutes of cleaning, with paper towels (that now went into the garbage), and attempting to disinfect my right hand with scalding hot water and Bath & Body Antibacterial Hand Soap, I was able to trudge back to my desk, a slight smirk on my face, and the knowledge of Murphy’s Law on my heart. At least no one walked in on me, which would’ve only added public embarrassment to my already burgeoning sense of shame.

That was my morning. It’s 11:30 now. I’m about to leave for lunch. I am afraid to go outside. I’m afraid to get up from my chair and leave my desk. I’m a hazard to myself. But at least I can laugh about it. It’s been one of those days.