Do you ever have those weeks when you feel like the biggest, most accident-prone lummox alive? Those weeks when you think, “I’m going to stay right here, inside my house, and maybe just right in this chair, until I’m feeling safe enough to be around people and stuff again”? For me, last week was one of those weeks.
It all began two Sundays ago, when E and I returned from visiting NY for our Dad’s birthday. After a four hour car ride and a trip to the grocery store immediately upon returning home because I was starving, and there was no food to be eaten, all I wanted to do was put on some comfy pants and kick back with a glass of wine. If you’re a regular reader, you may remember me mentioning the overflowing dresser drawers in my closet a couple weeks ago. Being difficult to close, these drawers often just remain open, thanks to my laziness. Also, my closet (which can be referred to as a walk-in closet in only the most literal sense, as one can indeed talk a few steps into it) does not contain a working light. I’d run my shoulder into an open drawer a couple of times and thought, “ow, I should really close these more.” But on Sunday, as I went barreling into my dark closet, reaching down to grab comfy things from a bottom compartment, it was my face that made contact with the corner of an open drawer.
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