driving home last night, my own fragility came to mind when an oncoming car on rock creek parkway swerved slightly into my lane and stirred the butterflies inside. i consider myself to be a good driver and at the wheel generally feel in control and safe. this minor non-incident last night reminded me that my own driving abilities don't really matter and that someone else could show me the exit from this world by being a shitty driver.
as i peered into the rear view mirror and exhaled, of all things this blog came to mind, which i found odd because, while i enjoy it, this is not a major facet or priority in my life. but it must be on some level, right? otherwise it would not creep into my head seconds after i almost wrecked. in any case, the context of my consideration of the blog was this: what will my last post say about me?
with that in mind, i have an experience to share that falls into the "way too much information" category. i have shared this story with a few friends and questioned whether or not to blog about it. unanimously i was told that i should, so here goes...
the other day i was doing some manscaping on my netherworld with my trustee hair clippers (#1 guard setting). this happens about every two weeks. the obvious question one might ask upon hearing this is, why the hell do you do that? to which i'd reply, why the hell wouldn't i do that? it would hypocritical for me to ignore that bit of grooming since most men sort of expect that of women, yes? the funny thing about it is that as an adolescent i couldn't wait to have pubes, and as an adult i want none or very little.
at any rate (typing this is almost making me blush), i had to sort of straddle the toilet while i went to town downstairs, lest the clippings fall all over the bathroom floor. about halfway through the job, so about 20 seconds in, the clippers slipped from my hand and plunged into the water. like a fool i did not think, i just reacted by grabbing the cord, which sent a minor jolt of electricity up my arm. it all happened so fast, but i vaguely remember yelling "what the fuck!" before yanking the cord out of the wall.
looking back on it now, i wonder what the nanny downstairs must have thought about the racket i made. i also wonder what it would be like to cry and laugh hysterically and simultaneously at my funeral, knowing that i was found naked on the floor with half my pubes shaved and hair clippers in the toilet. the scene, which thankfully did not play out that way, reminds me of the death scenes six feet under used to open with - ordinary people dying in their homes in rather extraordinary ways.
you'll be glad to know the clippers actually survived. after i dried them off they were good to go, so i finished the job.
so if this is my last post, it's sort of embarrassing. let's hope i make it through tonight.