Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown Times Column
Stick Around for Mistakes, Misery and Mystery
By Ann Ipock Dec. 29, 2004
One day last week I got up, put the coffee on and prepared to balance my checkbook. But when I went to pour my coffee, I saw that the decanter had no coffee—but rather just hot water. Duh! I had forgotten to put in the filter and coffee grounds. So I poured the faked-out coffee/hot water down the drain and turned on the spigot for fresh cold water. None came out. What’s this, I thought, realizing my water was cut off, which never happens! Remembering that I’d seen some construction workers in my neighborhood an hour earlier, I assumed they broke the water line.
Wanting my coffee really bad but not wanting to leave the house to get a cup, I came up with a plan. I headed out to the garage, remembering I had stock-piled water earlier this summer, what with the hellacious hurricane hex that had plagued our East Coast. It took twenty full minutes to locate the water, because I had to step over potting soil, golf clubs, a car and some furniture we’re trying to sell if we ever have that imaginary garage sale in the sky. (Another perfect example of procrastinating.) What is it about garages being a magnet for clutter? I always keep that space open to park my car; but just beyond the perimeter is junk, which is stacked vertically, nearly hitting the ceiling.
I finally located the gallon jug, but couldn’t tell if it was sealed. I called Russell at work to make sure he hadn’t poured some weird chemical in there. He’s always piddling and pouring and plodding along, with something or other; cleaning his golf clubs monthly, or fertilizing our grass every ten years or so. Sometimes he has “stuff” left over, and I’ve seen him pour it in a jar or a jug. In addition to my other problems that day, I did not—repeat, did not—want to get poisoned.
After he verified the safety of the water, I poured it through the coffee maker, with grounds in the filter, and retrieved a cup of coffee. Then I sat down to do that all-time most-dreaded job in the world. Balance my checkbook! Not just one, but two—personal and business. Right off the bat, I noticed I had not entered the check from Piggly Wiggly the night before. So now—talk about FUN—I got to sift through the trash can. Handling icky old coffee grounds (I remembered them the day before), rotten banana peels, moldy bread, and something inorganic that resembled a long cottony spider web, I gave up because of those obnoxious fumes circling my head.
Next I washed the gunk off my arms and walked out to the garage, thinking maybe the receipt was in the car. Then the phone rang and nearly tripped on a scatter rug at the back step. It was Russell asking me if I’d seen any MORE lizards in the house. Did he have to remind me—maybe that’s what the shimmering, slimy object was at the bottom of the trash can! In the last week, we have found not one, but two, inside our house. As soon as Russell said that, I took off back inside the house because I believe somehow—and this has not yet been scientifically proven—that those critters are coming in through the cluttered and drafty garage. (At that point, I realized I couldn’t win either way.) I prayed, “Lord, please not a lizard today—not on top of everything else.”
Just then, my eyes caught sight of a small, glimmering piece of paper. I stopped to inspect it. Yes! The cash register receipt I was missing, down inside my recycled newspapers. I came back into the house, hoping against hope that I was alone (i.e., no leaping lizards).
I entered the check, ran the figures and miraculously, was able to balance my checkbook. Feeling elated, I poured a second cup of coffee and began my search for the second register which was nowhere to be found. That was the last straw. Forget it, I said, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!
Looking on the bright side,
it’s a good thing my life is not entirely smooth—what am I
saying—it’s normal chaos 24/7 (an oxymoron perhaps; but nevertheless,
true); because then what would I write about? People don’t want
to hear about perfectionism, perkiness and pleasantries. Instead, they
seem to prefer mistakes, misery and mystery. Don’t worry—stick
around and I’ll give you plenty of all three.