Okay, everyone. Let’s get this story started. But first, I want to have a little fun with you and it involves something that happened to me this weekend. Yet I’m not going to tell you exactly what it is right from the beginning. Instead, I am going to give you a question and three options. You choose the option you believe is the answer and then I will tell you my story to see who guessed correctly.
Your question: Out of the three options below, which do you think Michelle enjoyed having this weekend?
A: A brand-new SUV.
B: A head cold.
C: A Halloween/Birthday party.
D: A brothel in her bedroom.
Think hard! This is a very difficult choice . . . what? You guessed already? Hmm, well. Let’s see if your answer is right.
It all began Wednesday when I started sneezing. Okay, I admit that I have not dusted the bedroom in awhile. One of the dust bunnies on the side dresser had woke me up at 2am asking if he could borrow a ten-spot. The bunnies were playing Texas Hold ‘Em and his chip stack was running low. I had looked at his poker hand, fished out a twenty from under my pillow, and told him to go all-in before rolling over and drifting back to sleep.
Anyway, the bedroom needed to have a good vacuuming. So I gave the chore serious consideration. I could either work on my writing, work on my writing, or work on my revising for my current manuscript. I decided to do a little of all three. My Wednesday was a busy one.
On Thursday, my nose sprang a leak. I used cartons of tissues to dam the wellspring, until I realized I had to use the tissues INSIDE the cartons to stop it. (Ha-ha! Koff-koff. Sorry, bad joke!) I figured my allergies were on overdrive while strapping on my snowshoes to tread over the dust. The bunnies were still partying from the poker win the other night and I still have not gotten repaid for the loan. I had to find that cheapskate and get my money back, with interest. So I skipped doing the vacuuming for another day. It sounded like a good excuse to me until I opened the dresser drawer.
Inside, the conniving dust bunny who owed me money had started a brothel with his poker winnings. The worse part about it was that they were not using safe-sex practices. It’s no wonder the bunnies had been multiplying at an alarming rate. I made a vow to clean the bedroom. Tomorrow.
Friday dawned, and with it the aches and sore throat. I shuddered at the thought of having a cold because whenever I get a cold it will usually turn into something worse - like bronchitis. A horrible thing to go through with all the liquid in the lungs and the wheezing and the chest x-rays. Yuck! So I crossed my fingers that my illness was only an allergy acting up and grabbed my vacuum and evicted the teeming mass of dust out of the bedroom. Then I took a hot shower, heavily medicated myself, and prepared for the party I had to go to Saturday. It was not a big party, which meant there wasn’t much to the decorating setup in the reception hall. One of the easiest I had to work on this year. I still did not look forward to going because the party would start at 7:30pm and a hockey game would be on at 8:00. I had to bite the bullet and attend the party. Sigh.
Saturday. HACK-HACK! UGH! I was sick. It was a cold. I was wrong about the allergies and felt sorry for the massive grave site I had dumped into the trash the other day with the death of the dust bunnies. Stupid me forgot to get the money first. As for the cold, there was no way I could work the party. Glad there were other people around to do it and, Boy, did they gripe about it. Yet it was not as if I were faking the cold just to stay home and listen to the hockey game. Honest! I was (and still am) sick in the head.
Wait . . . that last part didn’t sound right. My fever must be getting worse. Let me wrap up this story so I can crawl back under the blankets.
So I stayed home and drank lots of tea and used lots of tissues while cheering for the win of my hockey team (6-3 was the winning score.) The next day I found out what happened at the party.
Someone had parked an SUV into the middle of the reception hall. Yes, she was drunk and had just left the bar heading home when she drove the vehicle into the building. Nobody was seriously injured.
What a weekend! The best part was getting the head cold so I could stay home to listen to the hockey game and miss out on being run over at the party. Because I have no doubt that with my bad luck I would have been the one person standing in the path of the car. My reasoning is that I believe the car accident was not really an accident. I think the grieving relatives of the deceased dust bunnies wanted revenge but did not realize I had skipped out on the party. However, for some reason the authorities are not taking me seriously. They just nod their heads at my conspiracy theories and crack open eggs on my hot forehead. I hope they make some ham-and-cheese omelets.
Nothing works better at fighting a cold than eating an omelet. No. Wait. Is it starving a cold and feeding a fever? Or feeding a fever and starving a cold?
Koff-koff! UGH! I’m going to bed.