Life in progress


Can’t Clap

My bedroom door sticks. Let’s get that bit of information out of the way to start with. It’s actually worse in the summer–it barely closes then. It’s a dream in the winter to close, but it’s starting to get bad again. Therefore, when I want to close it enough to keep the dog out of my room, I have to slam it to basically wedge it into the door frame.

Yesterday, in a hurry to get downstairs with a handful of change, I slammed the door with said handful of change, and you can guess what happened. I slammed the side of my hand into the door frame, full force. I thought I’d broken it. It bled profusely for a while, so now I’m left with a bump, a bruise, and probably a scab; I haven’t had the guts to take the bandage off yet to look. And it’s still hurts to touch it. I definitely can’t clap. (Yes, I went a loooong way to get that title.)

If it had happened, say, next Wednesday instead, I could have used Karma for Thursday the 12th, which would have been much more in line with the fact that I’m illegally tagging along on the A to Z Challenge this year. Apparently you can’t spell Karma with a “C.” It’s even more illegal than what I’m doing, and only Buddha knows what might have gotten stuck in the door jamb if I’d attempted it!

Future is past, in my world. It’s a rebirth thing. 😉

My hand. My poor, poor hand.



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215. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Tuesday, April 3rd, 8:00am
Michael (and Joanna)


Michael sits at the window reading the newspaper. Joanna takes the seat beside him.

Michael: This is incredible.

Joanna: What is?

Michael: This. (shows her a picture in the newspaper) Did you hear about it?

Joanna: (grimaces) What the hell is that even a picture of?

Michael: (points) It’s a guy.

Joanna: In a tree? What, is he stuck?

Michael: Yeah. He was found hanging from a limb, and … Here, I’ll just read it: “On Sunday morning, an east-end resident called police when she heard loud shrieking noises coming from her back yard shortly after she let her dog out. Before the police arrived, she snapped a picture of a man hanging from her century old oak, pinned there by his collar by a short wooden stake. It wasn’t until police arrived, however, that she found the man’s biggest complaint wasn’t the hanging, but the fact that he had lost his plastic vampire fangs. The dog was later discovered wearing an extra-toothy grin.”

Joanna: (shakes head) Takes all kinds I guess.


Next stop: Wednesday, April 4th, 4:00pm

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