Last Sunday we were visiting a new church. DOB had already taken the ducklings out to the playground (it won all of their votes on the basis of its superior playground, which included an obstacle course in the woods). I was making my exit from the ladies' room when I miscalculated the intersection between my path and the path of the door and rammed it straight into my right eyebrow.
Fortunately a lady was standing in the foyer watching and asked if I needed ice, or I probably would have just wandered off in dazed oblivion with my hand plastered to my forehead for reasons I only vaguely recalled. With the injury drawn to my attention, I agreed that ice would probably be a good idea. We headed to the kitchen where I pulled my hand down for the application of ice and realized that I was also dripping blood.
At this point the lady thought it would be best to summon the pastor, who it turned out had a prior career as an ER nurse. Unfortunately, he was only the interim pastor, and didn't know where the first aid kit was. Fortunately, it was right there in the kitchen and labeled in large red letters, and deep in the depths he fished out a butterfly bandage and taped me up, so that was alright except for hurting most of the rest of the week.
Anyway, yesterday DOB got a restaurant gift card from grateful clients and his parents arrived the day before to expand the babysitting pool, so we went out to supper. I entered the ladies' room and tried to shut the stall door only to discover it was sagging on its hinges such that the latch didn't meet. Perhaps a yank on the bottom of the door would readjust it. I yanked. The entire door came off in my hands.
"Uh-oh," I said.
An employee had been in tidying up. "Did you break it?" she asked.
"Um, yes, I think so," I said.
She came and looked. "Oh, you did!"
With her balancing the top, I managed to slide the door back on to its hinges, whereupon I checked the latch, and sure enough, it now lined up properly. That will teach it.
So I guess the score between me and bathroom doors is even for now.
3 comments:
I can't stop laughing.
Well THAT'S a good way to remember a church! ;)
OUCH! How can you make things so painful sound SO incredibly funny?
I see a career as a safety inspector. You know, the old "find out what you're good at, then figure out how to get paid doing it" thing.
But use some of the money from the first few jobs to buy a padded suit.
Although enough scars will give you that "uh-oh" presence that will intimidate shady businesses.
USA
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