Now this writing challenge came exactly at the right time.
See I don’t have to imagine anything cause EVERYTHING HAD ALREADY HAPPENED DO YOU UNDERSTAND.
The dreadful day sprinted to its start at 7 am when the loud and proud miss-Gonna-Clean-This-House-So-Good barged in through my grandmother’s old white doors, happily knocking everywhere she could find a hard wall, literally dragging us out of bed, uncomfortably. She comes by every Thursday to clean the house, I’m not usually here as I would far away closed-off in university, but this time I was here. AND BOY WAS I HERE. I have never heard someone yell WAKE UP so many times in a row it would resemble a tyrant’s anthem. NEVER.
So I woke, put on my less-than-perfect outfit of tiredness, messy hair and discomfort. I immediately check my phone. 3 missed calls. What the hell? Missed Call 2:35am, 5 new messages from whom we’re going to call “long hair”.
Long hair was supposed to pick my friend and I up for a surprise picnic, as it was, on that dreadful day, my friend’s long awaited birthday, carefully planned on multiple whatsapp chats and phone calls. CAREFULLY PLANNED FOR WEEKS, ruined in just one morning.
-“Sorry there was a problem”
“I can’t pick you up anymore”
I squealed, and miss Clean-your-House-So-Good’s cigarette breath was slowly entering my lungs instead of fresh morning air. Smoke, smoke, smoke.
I called Long-hair, no answer. no answer. OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO MURDER SOMEONE. She finally answers and I can almost hear the just-waking-up in her voice, obviously tired from last night.
“I called you yesterday but you didn’t answer!”
“YOU CALLED AT 2:30 AM WHAT THE HELL WOULD I STILL BE DOING UP?”
“Either way I can’t drive you”
and from here on it was titanic all over again, the unsinkable sinked into a cold set of very bad set of circumstances.
The house was wet with cleaning supplies and mini bubbles, today was scraping day and all I could think of was the outside. WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO?
I quickly think of a ride, and while carrying an enormous sack of marshmallows on my right arm and about five more bags on my left I make my way down the stairs, on leg after the other. Uh oh. SHIT
I realize converse weren’t the best shoes to wear on a wet floor, or any kind of shoe really, cause this stuff was slippery.I hurdle down the steps on my back. Three steps hit my lower back repeatedly and I felt pain literally run across my back to my head and down again. Bags and marshmallows were on the floor and the entire village inside my grandmother’s house was in a split second peeking to the stairs frightened by the sound. I get picked up, sit down and feel like sitting up. Pain and anger was all I could feel for the next half an hour. I get to the emergency room and the doctors directly suggest an x-ray. Wuzzy and feeling my gut rise I get into the dark room, and I don’t know if it’s me but that room was so unusually quiet I suspected the doctor would hear my thoughts. Maybe that’s why they make them so silent, as if silence loudened thinking.
Shift to an hour later the doctors says I’m fine and just to get some Panadol on my way. I thank the heavens and head on to an hour and forty five minutes of extremely narrow roads and all kinds of honking until i get to my destination, which is AT THE END OF THE WORLD BY THE WAY, and hour and a half late to my friend’s surprise party, which was no longer a surprise. After seven long hours of picnic and three great hours of headache, a two hour long ride back home after a half hour detour from a very wrong turn we took leading us to what seemed to be the devil’s hangout place. I fall home in pieces, hugging my pillows until the next morning.
I couldn’t feel my bum the next day.