Smitten with Him

grown-up stuff happens here sometimes

I’d Like to Check My Karma Balance, Please?

free_karma_by_pinkiepi314-d572izqThings have been going so well with Loverman. I’ve been feeling so close to him lately. It started right before we went away on our 2-day mini-vacation last month. I think he’s feeling it, too. He’s been calling me way more often than normal. And he has been sending me the most adorable texts — something he very rarely used to do…

Yesterday it was: Mmmm… Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and stuff 😉
Monday it was: You on lunch break? Call me, I want to hear your lovely voice.

Tuesday he drove me to and from work and we even had a (really AWESOME!) quickie in my truck before he dropped me off at home for the horrible fight with the 15-year-old daughter (karma? or not?).

I’m scared. I know karma is lurking out there — waiting to pounce on me. Like last November with the broken ankle, or December when I was rear-ended driving Loverman’s car, or like Tuesday’s screaming match with my daughter. I also know that things just happen, completely unrelated to any other thing (or is it still karma?). So, I’m not going to hold my breath in anticipation for something bad. If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen.

I just wish sometimes that there was a Karma Bank where I could check my current balance and account activity.

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2AM Photo Scare

It’s 2AM and your phone has just buzzed you awake, filling the room in white-blue LED light. You have a message. It’s a photo. No words, no explanation. Just a photo. Tell us all about it. And what happens next. Creative Writing Challenge: 2AM Photo

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Bling, bling! Bling, bling! Whenever I receive a text, my phone makes this awesome noise that my daughters call “Barbie Sparkles”. I like the sound because it’s loud and annoying enough to wake me up. But they are right, that’s what it sounds like.

Groggily, I roll over to pick up the glowing, vibrating phone from the nightstand. Even though I’m still mostly asleep I notice the time is 2AM. My brain knows it’s either the bank telling me that a deposit has cleared my account (I hate that sometimes I get those texts at 2AM!) or it’s my sexy Loverman sending me a sweet dream (I really enjoy those texts at 2AM).

I flip the phone open and open up the awaiting Multimedia Message. There are no words, just a picture message from Loverman of the driver’s side of the inside of my truck. The steering wheel looks like something smashed it into the dashboard, the airbag is deployed and deflated. Below I can see two legs sprawled out, mangled, jeans torn and bloody. I know exactly what happened. Loverman was in a car accident!

The grog immediately clears and I start to panic: Oh! My! God! Do I call the police? I don’t know where he is! Who am I going to call for help? He is the one I always call for help! I have to go out and find him! SSSSHHHHIIIITTTT!!!!

I frantically grab the clothes laying on the top of the dresser and spend 5 minutes falling all over myself because, seemingly, I cannot remember how to get dressed. It’s taking too much time and I am becoming more and more tangled with myself. “ARGH! This isn’t helping!!!” I think. But, I can’t think straight — what should I do? keeps screaming through my head over and over like a manic mantra. I am blinding myself with my fear, emotionally paralyzing myself in a state of utter panic.

It’s not until I get to my left shoe and I start putting it on when I start to realize how frantic I’m being. I need to slow down and be careful. I think about Loverman again and how disappointed he will be with me if I re-break that darn ankle so close to being deemed “healed”. Methodically, I concentrate on putting my left shoe on my healing foot and then I walk over to check myself out in the mirror because I don’t want to look like a crazy-meth-head-on-the-loose (even though I kind of felt like one).

I look acceptable. Freaked out! But, acceptable. I shake my body all over, take one more deep breath (inhale… exhale…) and I am on my way down the stairs to retrieve my jacket and my keys. Kitty was sitting at the top of the staircase watching me and he decides that he wants to go downstairs at the exact time that I do. And in the exact same footfalls, too. I avoid his elusive furriness for the first couple of stairs, but his fuzzy body lands on the third stair at the same time as my left foot.

“Fuck this!”, I hear myself say. I feel my body rolling down the last several steps and see my head hit the wall at the bottom. It’s strange how it all seems like an out-of-body experience. Am I unconscious? Am I dead? Did anyone hear and are they coming to help me? What have I done?

… … …

My eyes open with a start! I am laying back in my bed. There’s no pain. That’s strange. I move my head back and forth slowly. My neck’s not sore. Hmmmmm… I move my left leg around underneath the covers.  Hmmmmm, again. The ankle is fine. It doesn’t even feel sore…

Remembering what woke me up so abruptly, I look over at my phone and see that there is a new message. Hoping that it’s Loverman with a sweet and sexy bedtime message for me, I open it. I could use something to take my mind off that crazy dream! I notice, as I open up my phone, that it’s 2AM…

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Rear-Ended and Trying Not to Feel Responsible…

Rear-Ended

This is NOT a picture of my accident, but it almost could be.
My tiny little Ford Probe (actually Loverman’s) took all the damage. The dude’s RAM Truck was completely unscathed.

That’s what happened to me this morning as I was bringing my daughters to school. We had just entered the driveway for the High School drop-off and I had to stop because some students were crossing the driveway. The giant truck behind me must not have seen my tiny rear end slow down and stop (not to mention the teenagers walking across the street!) because he slammed into the back of my/Loverman’s little-bitty car. Both tail-lights were knocked clean out of their sockets and the frame is now bent so the trunk will not latch/close.

whiplashAfter all was said and done, I was only 30 minutes late to work and the car is still drivable (so far — cross your fingers!). My neck is sore and both of my daughters said the same thing, but I am SO happy that poor little car is the only thing that was hurt (and not too badly)! It could have been so much worse!

It turns out that the man who hit me really was a pretty nice guy. You should have seen his face when I got out of the car with my cast and gimped over to him on my crutches… And he also works at a body shop (BONUS!! Because neither insurance company is going to cover the repair costs for this little ’93 Ford Probe with 217,000 miles on it). After he gave me all his information, he got some tools out of his truck and a couple of washers and he screwed both of the tail-lights back in for me so I could still drive it — the electrical was all still working. Also, he tried to get the trunk to latch just so it’s more secure, but no luck there.

I called Loverman right away and I told him — waking him up (for reference, that is NOT the way I like waking him up!). He was totally awesome about it and asked me if everyone was okay and if I wanted him to come and get me and bring me to work. I told him I will try to drive his car to work and let him know if I have any more “problems”. He really is so great… And I really do feel so bad…

I know it wasn’t my fault, but his car was my responsibility (he trusted me with it!) and I feel like I let him down. I know I let myself down (yet I don’t understand why)

I need to learn NOT to feel responsible for things that are not my fault. Just because I am there, doesn’t mean that I did it. Loverman isn’t mad at me… And why should he be, right?

But I am still mad at me…

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