spiceboy Saves the Day
I awoke today with dread in the pit of my stomach. You see, I have to go to Long Island to do presentations for about 14 books this afternoon, and there is NOTHING I hate more than speaking in front of people. NOTHING. Well, except flying. And eating tripe.
Anyway.
So I woke up, turned off my alarm, walked to the shower, and pulled back the curtain only to find THE HUGEST icky disgusting prehistoric-looking bug just hanging out in the tub. It was at that point that I ran from the bathroom an into the farthest corner of the apartment (which is about 3 steps), screaming like a little girl.
So I guess I learned something today. There’s NOTHING I hate more than speaking in front of people. Except flying. And eating tripe. And prehistoric-looking black bugs in my bathroom on a day I have to speak in front of people.
As I stood in the corner and screamed, I evaluated my options:
Option A: Devise an elaborate plan to kill the bug without having to physically touch it, watch it die, or remove it from the tub. But devising the plan would take time, and would make me late to work, and I would miss the car service to Long Island, miss my presentations, and probably get fired.
Option B: Skip my shower and attempt a sponge-type bath in the kitchen sink, which would mean I’d show up to my presentations sort of smelly and disheveled and with greasy hair, and I’d probably get fired.
Option C: Crawl back into bed and pretend the bug and my job didn’t exist. Which wouldn’t really solve the problem at all and which would surely get me fired.
Option D: Keep screaming until it woke spiceboy up and let him take care of it.
As you can guess, I chose Option D.
spiceboy rose from the depths of his peaceful slumber like a pajama-clad superhero and shuffled into the bathroom to investigate the source of my angst. The bathroom door creaked open and the shower curtain rustled as he pulled it back. There was a moment of silence, and then:
“Whoa.”
45 seconds and a wad of paper towels later, spiceboy had disposed of the icky bug and crawled back into bed. I was overcome with relief and I jumped on him, thanking him and showering him with kisses. His face was still all scrunchy from sleep, and he patted my leg as if to say: Okay, calm down, it was just a bug, dude. But I know he felt all heroic and good deed-ish about it.
So thanks spiceboy, for saving me from the bug—and from getting fired.
Now, if I can just get through these presentations without having a nervous breakdown, this might turn out to be a pretty good day.
Anyway.
So I woke up, turned off my alarm, walked to the shower, and pulled back the curtain only to find THE HUGEST icky disgusting prehistoric-looking bug just hanging out in the tub. It was at that point that I ran from the bathroom an into the farthest corner of the apartment (which is about 3 steps), screaming like a little girl.
So I guess I learned something today. There’s NOTHING I hate more than speaking in front of people. Except flying. And eating tripe. And prehistoric-looking black bugs in my bathroom on a day I have to speak in front of people.
As I stood in the corner and screamed, I evaluated my options:
Option A: Devise an elaborate plan to kill the bug without having to physically touch it, watch it die, or remove it from the tub. But devising the plan would take time, and would make me late to work, and I would miss the car service to Long Island, miss my presentations, and probably get fired.
Option B: Skip my shower and attempt a sponge-type bath in the kitchen sink, which would mean I’d show up to my presentations sort of smelly and disheveled and with greasy hair, and I’d probably get fired.
Option C: Crawl back into bed and pretend the bug and my job didn’t exist. Which wouldn’t really solve the problem at all and which would surely get me fired.
Option D: Keep screaming until it woke spiceboy up and let him take care of it.
As you can guess, I chose Option D.
spiceboy rose from the depths of his peaceful slumber like a pajama-clad superhero and shuffled into the bathroom to investigate the source of my angst. The bathroom door creaked open and the shower curtain rustled as he pulled it back. There was a moment of silence, and then:
“Whoa.”
45 seconds and a wad of paper towels later, spiceboy had disposed of the icky bug and crawled back into bed. I was overcome with relief and I jumped on him, thanking him and showering him with kisses. His face was still all scrunchy from sleep, and he patted my leg as if to say: Okay, calm down, it was just a bug, dude. But I know he felt all heroic and good deed-ish about it.
So thanks spiceboy, for saving me from the bug—and from getting fired.
Now, if I can just get through these presentations without having a nervous breakdown, this might turn out to be a pretty good day.
posted by east side girl at 8:45 AM
8 Comments:
how Annie Hall!
i loathe speaking in front of people. LOATHE. my boss has even tried to sign me up for classes to help me with this. i keep refusing, telling her it will never, under any circumstances, happen.
Speaking in front of people does not scare me. Bugs don't really scare me (unless I've been startled. I have a male friend who squeals like a little girl everytime he sees an insect. He keeps doing that until I get up and squish it.)
So, what does bother me? Darkness. Complete and utter darkness.
Ekk!!!
hey baby--but you're so GOOD at speaking in front of people! Your charm and charisma always prevails!
I'm sure you rocked your presentations, but for future reference, I have one word for you: beta-blockers (well, two words and a hyphen.) I learned this from the other classical piano students while studying at Sarah Lawrence.
If nothing else, Sarah Lawrence students were certainly good for teaching you which drugs to use when ; )
lova ya!
it's bug season, i'm telling you! that perennial season of urban living that others might refer to as "spring."
I'm slowly getting over my fear of public speaking. Slowly.
How did it go?
I love it when couples do brave and dashing stuff for each other. I think when boyfriend helps me with my tax returns, he gets god status with me. When I design his invitations, I am so so a savior to him.
But bugs in tub...nasty nasty nasty. HOorah to spiceboy!
I haaaaaaaaaaaaaate bugs. Ick! I would totally do the same thing. Pop by my blog sometime for a read, I love reading your misadventures :)
Post a Comment
<< Home