Last night pretty much sucked. I like to think of myself as an energetic optimist but the events of this last evening have left me with a cynical smirk on my face and a serious pain in my right hip. It went sort of like this:
Driving home from the final bonfire of the summer I had my mind full of goodbyes and packing. I was nearly home, cruising along in my newly purhased but long-ago produced vehicle, when a flash of tan and white entered the right side of my vision. A doe, as large as a kodiak bear in my memory, leaped in front of my car, used my hood like an gymnast’s vault and was propelled above and behind my slowed vehicle. It was the kind of thing that, once it happened, I kept trying to wake myself up from the scary dream but to no avail. I quickly pulled to the side of the road and pulled the e-brake, hopping out of my car and noticing for the first time that my hip had had a very sudden meeting with the steering wheel during the collision and I now felt like I had a plastic needle buried in my pelvis. I was still riding high on frantic adrenaline, which dulled the pain slightly and helped me as I dragged the recently deceased woodland creature off to the side of the road so that other drivers wouldn’t be troubled by her passing. I did a new dance I call the limp-hop back to the car and drove (slowly) back to the house, traversing the half mile with anxious looks at my crumpled, dented, and disfigured hood. After pulling into the garage and staring with disbelief at my newly destroyed vehicle, I decided to take a short walk outside to clear my mind and settle the army of gnomes running around in my stomach. The night air felt great and just shortly after my third or fourth deep breath I thought I felt a spot of rain. Oh no, not rain at all, friends. Not only had a representative of the woodland creatures introduced herself in a lovely way but it seems that the airborne population felt a little left out. Yep, a bird shat on my head. Not on my clothes. Not on my shoes. Nope, directly onto my melon. I took a shower and washed my hair just shy eight times but I can’t shake the feeling of that turd sitting amongst the tiny bristles of my recently shaved head.
I woke up this morning and for the first time in a long time, felt really miserable. But hey, you can’t have good days without terrible days, right?
