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Some Days You Get Smacked In The Face With A Bottle of Ketchup


Some days you win, and some days you get smacked in the face with a bottle of ketchup. Yesterday was a rough one. The Bean had her first day of in-person school, and I had my first day in a long time without my favorite person by my side. The entire day felt off. I took the opportunity of uninterrupted time and began cleaning in earnest. The bathroom was scrubbed down, the laundry room details were taken care of, and I started loading donation items. I was feeling energized, but my energy felt askew. Have you ever had a day where it takes you longer to do what you are doing? Or do you continuously trip up, drop items, or just feel clumsy? Well, dear reader, that was my day yesterday.


I spilled a bag of beads all over the floor, dropped a glass of water, and I stubbed my toe going up the stairs. The icing on the cake, the piece de resistance, was when I opened my kitchen pantry, and a bottle of ketchup fell and smacked me in the face. I was stunned, and it really hurt, but you would be impressed, dear reader, nary a curse word fell from my lips. I know, even I am shocked. At that point, I admitted defeat for the day. My energy, my chi, my whatever was definitely off, and I needed to come to terms with that fact. If I felt like this, I could only imagine how my bean was feeling. However, I remained hopeful that she was having a good day.


When she got off the bus in the afternoon, I knew from looking at her that our days had been similar. Her once perfect makeup was running down her face creating black circles under her eyes like a little raccoon. Her perfectly plaited hair swirled around her head like angry dust bunnies. The look on her face was utter defeat. As soon as the bus was out of sight, she melted into my arms. I said, “That good, uh?” She replied, “I don’t want to talk about it until we get to the house.” We rode back to the house in silence, and I respected her request.


When we got into the kitchen, the flood gates opened, and a torrent of woes and complaints erupted. First, her bus was late because a tree had fallen and the bus needed to be rerouted. She was half an hour later than everyone else. Second, she could not figure out the combination lock for her locker. Finally, at the end of the day, the teacher who had to help her every period told her she thought the lock was faulty and needed a new one. Then, she was late for every single class, but no one gave her a tardy slip. Also, she got lost three times. But the real tragedy of the day was lunch. She put her lunch bag down at the table where her friends were sitting. She went to the restroom, and when she came back, “Suzy” had taken her seat. She moved to the last seat at the table, only to be told by a teacher that only five people were permitted at a table even though there are six seats. “Stupid Covid!” “Suzy” would not move even though everyone told her to move because it was Jordan’s seat. Instead, Jordan had to move to a table alone, and not one of her friends moved with her. The only good thing that happened was a really nice and pretty girl asked her to sit with her and her friends. Lastly, swimming class “sucked,” and she could not find her bus at the end of the day. Oh, and don’t forget she cried like three times throughout the day. Dear reader, I am exhausted writing all that out.


The first day of school was a complete bust. As Eric and I sat listening to the summarization of “the worst day ever,” Eric began his comedy act. When he impersonates a teenage girl, he ultimately takes on the moves and terminology of an urbanite crossed with a valley girl. This alone is funny, but when mixed with his often inappropriate sense of humor, one can’t help but giggle. While snapping his fingers and bobbing his head, he informs The Bean, “Suzy sucks a fatty cuz’ that b!#$& stole your seat! Like, WHATEVS!” I was practically rolling on the floor, but The Bean looked at her dad and said, “Too soon.” Her response only made us laugh harder. However, it did lighten her mood, and she began to laugh about her tragic comedy of a day. By the time I described my day ending with getting smacked in the face by a ketchup bottle, The Bean was laughing as hard as us.


Sometimes, dear reader, all one can do is laugh. Laughter is indeed the best medicine. Although we both had terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days, we reluctantly got up this morning, hopeful that today would be better. Eric sent The Bean off to school this morning with a teenage girl impression and a warning to “Suzy, that seat stealing b!#$&! Giiiiirl, she better not EEEEEE-VEEEEN!” The last thing we saw was a big smile and rolling eyes with laughter. Let’s hope she looks the same when she gets off the bus. I have yet to stub my toe, drop anything, or get hit in the face with a falling object. It’s a better day already. Dear reader, stay safe, be smart, may you not get hit in the face with a bottle of ketchup, and wash your hands.

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