Three Shocks I Recently Experienced

Petty Shock

Some of you may know that I am adversely affected by electric shocks and static electricity. I have this Tourette’s sort of reaction; if shocked by a car door or a key in a lock or (grrrr) bad shoes on office carpet, I must shout “Motherfucker!” I hate electric shocks. Hate hate hate. Why, oh why? must the makers of childrens’ playground equipment make their baby slides out of the most staticky plastic known to mankind? I swear yesterday I actually saw a bolt of lightning travel between my hand and Trombone’s backside after he took a slide down Electric Avenue. And then he wants “MO! MO! MO!” (uh – that means ‘more’) while his hair is standing up on his head like he just rubbed balloons all over himself. MO? MO? That’s what daddy is for. Mama’s going to play with the wooden things now.

Mostly Irritating but Somewhat Panicky Shock

When I was driving into the parking garage this evening after a long, wet drive home, I was most unimpressed when the car died.

It’s not MY car, of course, it’s a rental because my car is getting fixed after its encounter with a random something-or-other (I have taken to pretending I hit a pole because otherwise I want to say really mean things about [and to] the guy who hit me) in a parking lot over a month ago. I have a completely NOT hassle-free rental which has mostly been delightful because it has a CD player, even if I forget to take CDs with me when I travel. But the whole “dead engine as we coast down the driveway into the parking garage” thing really didn’t make me want to run out and buy an automatically transmissioned Toyota Corolla in silver.

The weird thing, aside from the car dying so abruptly, was that I could not remove the key from the ignition. I sat in the car, just inside the gate, hoping no one would come home right behind me because what I do not need is for my rental vehicle to get rear-ended, turning the key left, right, left, right, wiggling it, jiggling it, while the car did nothing. Nothing. All the while, Trombone sat in the back seat making worried noises for me, which was very helpful in an empathetic way.

I have never had a car die on me before but I have seen it happen on the street a lot so I got out, kept my right hand on the steering wheel and my left on the open driver’s side door and pushed with all my might. The car rolled! I began to wonder how I was going to make the 90 degree turn required to get to our parking spot but then realized I didn’t have a chance in hell of parking a car in this manner anyway. Luckily – and strangely – the car began to pick up speed and I thought “Hmm, maybe it will start now or at the very least I might need to apply some brakes because another thing I don’t need is to run my rental car into someone else’s car in the parking garage” and sure enough it started. I drove the last few feet to the parking spot and turned everything off and said to the ignition, “Seriously, what the fuck?” and Trombone said, “Garblewhappledoooo?” and then we went inside and it was dinner time.

Humorous Shock

Later, while the bath ran and Trombone sang himself “Jack and Jill” I trudged upstairs to change out of my sexy work clothes into my sexy home clothes. When I removed my bra I glanced down and nearly had a heart attack when I noted a smear of something that looked like blood! between my boobs! only it’s sort of brown! and sticky! and it took me a full minute to realize it was likely a chocolate chip that had found its way into my clothing and nestled in for a nice melty cuddle. I did not go so far as to taste it because it still looked like some wayward bodily fluid. Even though my forebrain knew it was chocolate, my hindbrain maintained it was a bit dodgy.