Friday, March 11, 2011
It Would Have Been Funny...Part 2
For your reading pleasure, a sticky second installment in the series.
My ability to consistently embarrass, humiliate, and/or make a mess of myself has reached its absolute peak.
At least I hope so.
This morning's tale does not come close to the monstrosity of yesterday's, errrr, disaster. But, it IS a pretty sticky situation.
I eat a granola bar every day for breakfast. Every, single day. Every day.
It's a South Beach Diet bar, the peanut butter kind. Small but delicious. And filling.
But today, I wanted to change it up. I had gotten some of that healthy bread from the grocery store, and hadn't used a piece all week.
"Some buttered toast might be nice," I thought to myself. So I pop two pieces in the toaster. Tap my toes impatiently as they brown.
And get out the butter.
Just a pat.
Then. I see the jam in the fridge. Cherry jam. With big chunks of cherries. So sweet and delicious. I knew I had to spread some on top. But I don't have restraint. Or good sense, it seems. Jelly on toast is fine.
But jelly on toast - TO-GO?!
Maybe if you lay it on thin. But no, not me. It was a tablespoon-full on each piece, at least.
Maybe if you put the jelly sides in, like a sandwich. But I like them separated. Open face.
Maybe if your hands aren't full of other stuff. But trying to juggle a purse and a drink and the open face cherry jam toast is not going to happen. It's just not, people.
I do make it out the door. Lock it.
Down three flights of stairs in pointy toed heels. Phew.
I make it down to Stanley, my Saab, and set the purse on the passenger seat.
I swing my leg into the car, but, holy smokes, the momentum gets the better of me.
Oh no! The toast! It's slipping!
Flying through the air in that sickening slo-mo.
I'm like a cartoon, flapping my arms, mouth in a perfect "O" from the "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" emerging from my watering jaws, the "NOOOO" that is shaking the very foundation of my apartment, waking sleeping babies, scaring old ladies walking their purse sized puppies, and making the guy getting into his car next to me get into his car a little faster.
And as Isaac Newton figured out that hallowed day, the apple falls from the tree because of a little force we call gravity.
That's right, children. The toast will always land jelly-side down.
One piece falls between the seats, chunks of cherries slithering down the sides of the console and onto my perfect carpet.
If you do not know this already, I am a maniac about my car. It is a nice car, to be sure, so crumbs do not belong. I actually pulled my car over to the side of the road once to make my sister get out and find a small piece of biscuit that she dropped between the seats. True story.
So jelly!? On my carpet?! Maddening.
The other piece flies jelly-side down onto the passenger seat with a sickening, sticky thud.
I won't detail the aftermath, but I will say that the cleanup was an interesting process. I had cherry jelly on my hands, my jeans, my sweater, and my face when it was all said and done.
I used the dew on top of my car to wet the one scrap of napkin that I had saved in my glove-box, but that didn't help much.
Moral of the story:
Keep baby wipes in your car. You'll never know when you might need 'em.