Write About Now

I’m usually fine with being single. I’d like to be married someday, but life is good and I’ve always been (too) independent, so I’m content on my own…..usually. This week was not one of those times.

Nope, didn’t see a cute couple holding hands. Didn’t watch a sappy movie. Didn’t even feel too stressed at the prospect of unpacking and setting up the new house by myself—actually, I enjoy doing this alone without a guy insisting, as one of my friends insists to his wife, that every wall be painted only white.

So, none of those things. Instead I had a glass jug fall on my head.

Thursday morning, while standing on a chair attempting to see if the vat I use for iced tea would fit into the top cabinet (answer: no), I lost my grip and it tipped forward, slamming into my right eye before hitting the ceramic tile and shattering.

Instantly I’m bent over at the waist, one hand pressed to my eye, bruises forming and blood dripping between my fingers, shards of glass everywhere, and no one here: no one to find a butterfly Band-aid so I won’t scar (my first concern, I admit); no one to deal with the mess; no one to advise if it’s worth a trip to the ER; no one to help me find out where the nearest hospital even is.

So I did what I always do: I took care of it myself. I stopped the bleeding and covered the cuts with bright green bandages featuring yellow cartoon giraffes (and made a mental note to buy some normal ones). I iced the bruises. I swept up the glass. I postponed my trip to the grocery so as not to frighten small children.

And I thought how nice it would be to have someone looking out for me now and then, even if it means too many white walls.