I blame Mona
Not last Friday, but a week ago, Friday began like any other happy Friday, except, I was about to embark on a three day weekend which added to my contentment. I awoke with jeans in mind to wear to work and I wrote on my Mona story for over an hour before getting ready. Good start, you would think.
Mona just had awakened to an empty house and her mom had left a non-explanation note on the frig. Mona was a little ticked then decided to go for a walk in a field in back of their rental house. She’s not a country girl so it’s a new world to her. I like Mona’s and her red curly hair and gutsy then pansy attitudes.
Mona was on my mind Friday when I walked outside to feed my cat, EJ (Elton John -- named to match Kiki Dee my older cat) before getting dressed to go to work.
I unfasten the hook on the screen door (screened breezeway) and walk outside with food cup in hand. I did hear a little something when the door closed (clue), but I ignored it because I’m still thinking about my story. Did Mona have her cell phone with her before leaving the house? Then, I feed EJ and he swats at me playfully, but I’m thinking, does Mona like animals? I walk back to the door and kick the water dish to see if the water is frozen and needs to be replaced. It is frozen (clue). I pull on the screen door to open it, but it won’t open. When the door slammed, the little hook fell back into the little loop thingy, inside.
Now what are the chances of that, I ask you? Before you give me the odds, I need to say that this has happened one other time, in the last couple of years.
Then, I laugh at myself and reassure “me” that I can walk around to the front of the house to get back in. But, I’m thinking, I hope no one sees me in my Pjams and hot rollers. I hurry to the steps to exit the deck and onto – black ice.
Now, I’m airborne hitting the first step with my tush, flying up again, hitting the steps again and continue down in this manner like a ragdoll in midflight. At some point, I hit my shoulder, bounced on the bum and hit my shin and ankle. When I finish falling I'm on my face in the frozen grass and winded. My left arm is over my head the other arm is under my torso.
What do you think my first thought was? I thought, did anyone see me?
I stand up. I check to see if my limbs are working. I’m numb and dirty. My hair has flopped into my face. I pat the top of my head and find that there are three missing rollers in the grass somewhere. I don't look for them, but instead, I walk around to the front of the house and back inside.
Now if you’re a reader of mystery, or a writer of it, the clues were there that I would be falling down icy steps:
a. Frozen water (dish) probably means frozen surfaces.
b. Door slams with a click could mean that the door has latched again and I would be forced to find another entry.
· Shin cut and huge-mongous bruises from shin down to the ankle and around
· Scratches on shoulder
· Stiff neck and shoulder
· Bruises on bum
· Sore rib
· Scratches on fingers
· Pain EVERYWHERE all last week
· Bad mood Friday.
At first I blamed EJ, but he didn’t do anything. Then, I blamed Mona because she distracted me. Someone at work gave me a new nickname: Calamity Jane.
So, are you a distracted writer or reader? Do you walk around with remnants of stories on your mind? Have you fallen this year? I have.