Embracing the danger
– Columns –
I think the universe is trying to make me feel a little more hard core. That, or it is trying to kill me.
It started out innocently enough. I was putting some photos I had recently printed into some frames I had gotten from a dollar store. That may have been the root of my problem.
I’ve purchased picture frames there before and never had an issue. Every photo fit into the frames great, except for the one that decided it would be too large to fit inside the frame. I doubled checked I had purchased the correct size of frame for the photo. I did. I probably should have just cut the photo.
At that point, I tried putting one side of the picture in and weaseling it between the glass and the back of the frame itself. It didn’t work and the picture got really stuck inside the frame, but wasn’t laying flat in the frame. After trying, and failing, to slide the photo back out without tearing the picture, I pushed a little on the glass near the edges of the frame. I just wanted the glass to pop out so I could get the photo out. Instead, the glass broke.
Now when I say the glass broke, I don’t mean it got a little crack in it, or even split in half. It full on shattered.
Good thing glass cleans up off of a work bench easily. Oh wait, I was doing this on my bed. The glass actually did clean off of the bed OK, but the idea still stands. I didn’t really want glass shards in my bed. Oh well.
On the bright side, the picture sort of fit in the frame after the glass was out of the way.
Just when I thought all the sharp items were removed from the places they shouldn’t be in my house, I looked down while I was showering and saw a giant staple. It was just chilling on the shower floor an inch from my foot. I’m not sure where it came from or how it managed to make it’s way to the shower, but it looked like a carpet staple.
I set it on a shower shelf and proceeded to forget to take it out of the shower for at least two weeks. Eventually, I did remember.
However, I still haven’t figured out where the staple came from. Is the carpeting coming up somewhere? Will I just be walking through my house someday when my foot gets impaled by a staple? Did I track it in from somewhere else? If so, how? Bare feet and staples don’t mix well. Should I be concerned?
Then, a few days later, I had bone chips in beef sticks I was eating. At least with those, I knew where they came from and how they got there.
Maybe the universe wants me to be more like professional wrestlers and embrace the danger, complete with Lego matches (pretty sure every parent has unwittingly competed in one of those). I might as well. There really isn’t any way I can see to prevent the problems. Or, maybe my humourously bad luck is just continuing to shine through.
If the world is trying to hurt me, I’m definitely every stereotypical horror movie girl, running to the weapon-filled garage instead of away from the danger.