Story Time.

5/19/14


so here is how it went down. we realized two weeks ago that our trash wasn't being picked up and after a talk with our neighbor and a detailed explanation from my friend casey, i headed to city hall friday morning to get a new decal.

i obviously have to work up to these things otherwise i would have done this two weeks ago. but whatever.  c'est la vie.

i hopped in my truck after battling the spider webs that somehow always seem to be stretching across my walkway in front of my house. the neighbors must think i am an incredible dancer because i come out twirling and high-kicking every morning. or at least thats what i look like in my head. its probably more like the hokey-pokey on drugs with a purse flying about like crazy. anyway, once in my truck i backed out of the driveway while finding my favorite song on the cd. immediately bellowing the lyrics with enough gusto to make me a little light headed. (i do love that song.) well somewhere between my house and city hall i had stopped singing to have a deep conversation with myself when i stopped mid sentence to ask myself why my rear end was wet.

believe it or not the first thing that came to mind was "oh gosh. i peed and didn't even feel it?!" i mean, how old am i?! my second thought, and more along the lines of what actually happened, was to the leak that my drivers side door has. you see there is this little dent in the door, (that i had nothing to do with!) and when it rains, there is normally a little puddle on my floor. 

not so with last nights downpour.

so there i am. spitting mad. mad that i have to go to city hall at all and take care of this. mad that my dumb truck can't keep out water. mad that my pants are soaked. mad that i had to drive around a stupid traffic circle...

you get the point. 

in a effort to get my seat our of the puddle in my literal seat, i scooted to the middle of my truck and drove sideways. which made me even more mad because that is the worst seat in my truck. and also parallel parking from the middle seat is hard. its just so hard. 

after thoroughly fighting my seat belt and doors that kept closing on my legs do to the wind, i sent a mighty kick to my door and flung it open sliding feet first into the road. my shirt rolling up and catching on the seat belts. i yanked it back into place, snatched my purse and slammed my truck door with my entire body. (you know, to teach it a lesson...) i jaywalked across the street, (thats a big deal for me!) and marched toward city hall. 

when i got inside the lady at the front desk sent me in the direction on payments and after talking to the lady about my trash can i started to write a check. i heard someone behind me suck in their breath and a quick glance behind me showed a man inspection the ceiling as he stood in line behind me. 

then i felt it.

there was water dripping down my legs. i tried to angle my body so my rear was facing the wall instead of the man behind me. every panicked voice inside me assuring me that it wasn't that bad. you probably can't even tell i'm wet! i finished the check and walked hurriedly towards the doors. every hope i had was shattered within seconds when the lady sitting at the front desk saw me and her eyes dropped to my crotch. "don't look down!" i said to myself. then i saw my reflection in the double doors. there was no doubt in anyones mind. this girl had peed her pants. that awful upside-down u shape of dark fabric was so clearly defined that i even doubted myself.

i wanted to turn around and yell to them all that it wasn't true! that i had a wet truck seat! it wasn't my fault, i was just trying to get our trash taken away! i also wanted to run down the street at top speed and never, ever go back in that building. or anywhere in lynchburg. 

its actually a good thing i'm moving. 

2 comments:

  1. Oh my...wow. This is just unfortunate haha. But hey, like you said, good thing you're moving ;)

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  2. Oh what a misadventure! Well if nothing else, at least the experience makes for a good story right?

    x Erin
    louiseerin.blogspot.com

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