On the third day of THRIFTSMAS- my true love gave to me- tetanus.
today was GET-YER-SHIT-DONE-TODAY- day- so i did laundry, got stuff ready for work and an interview tomorrow, made doctors appointments, made eye doctor appointments, TERROR DOG bath day, colored my hair (truth be told, i’m sitting here with hair dye ready to be rinsed out) and just doing those 283 projects that needed to be done. no, it’s not fun, but i sure as fuck feel good getting things crossed off my list- especially the list of “THINGS THAT TAKE ABOUT AN HOUR TO DO” stuff….. amazing how much you can get done when your OCD kicks in and your TO DO LIST mocks you.
so, back to the tetanus. i figured THRIFTSMAS could wait for a day, especially since, after hacking away at my TO DO list, i’ll have much more time, energy (and space) to focus on the actual holiday. i put up the second tree, packed up my mom’s gi-normous seashell collection, my dad’s stamp collection and a bunch of stuff for the thrift store and unloaded all of it (SOOOO FANTASTIC AND GRATIFYING btw), unloaded my dad’s ‘commemorative newspaper collection” and a bunch of baseball cards to other folks, tidied and finally, put the dye in my hair. my caucasian afro takes THREE bottles of dye and an hour ‘sitting’ time- so i applied it and set off to do laundry and finally organize the laundry room. with a bright red, sticky head, i put away the garden chotchkies, pots and planters, all the while doing more laundry. “i’m the queen of multi-tasking” i said to myself, all puffed and proud. and as i was patting myself on the back i knocked over a box of garden junk and carelessly BUT WITH FORCE kicked a candle holder. HOLY FUCKAROLE did that hurt- and hurt even worse when i looked down and saw the spike that holds the candle in place-STICKING STRAIGHT OUT, STUCK IN MY FOOT…. driven home by the fact that it was stuck through my sock… boy oh fucking boy- that stung and took all of my ‘balls’ to pull the holder out…. it immediately started to bleed, and droplets of blood went everywhere on the laundry room floor. excellent. one step forward, nineteen bloody footprints back.
so i’m going to go rinse this dye out, and if i make it until the end of a shower without a red line trailing up my arm, i’ll be fine and glad enough to just go to bed and not rush off to the emergency room.
Merry Thriftsmas to all, and to all, a whole mess of lockjaw!