Hey
More Bad Luck
"Do you think you can have good sleeping?" she asked from the walkway outside of our room.
"Yes, it's OK..." I answered, pulling the covers over my head and reddening cheeks. Earlier, I broke several of the glass slats of our window trying to close them when the handle didn't work. It made a horrendous noise. CRASH, you know what the sound of broken glass hitting cement sounds like: awful and incriminating. I came back to the bar, where Benjamin was sitting.
"Was that you? Are you bleeding?" he asked casually. I think he's getting used to my little accidents.
"Yes, no," I answered -- yes it was me and no I wasn't bleeding. But that wasn't entirely true. I didn't know it at the time because my adrenaline was pumping from the embarrassing noise of the breaking glass. I was bleeding -- somehow I cut my toe on a piece of glass and when my flipflops felt as if I'd walked through a puddle, I looked down to discover the gash.
"Clean it up," Benjamin suggested.
"Yes, clean it up, that's what I'll do," I replied with the faintest glimmer of hope that if I cleaned up the mess, the accident would theoretically never have happened. I learned in childhood to clean up the mess and then admit the accident. It seems less of a 'thing' that way. I cleaned up the broken glass before worrying about my toe in case I further lacerated myself in the 'hide the evidence' process. Not that I was hiding the evidence -- it just made me feel better to have less of it. The open, gaping hole in the window was evidence enough, anyway. There's no hiding that.
I was relieved that no-one was angry or upset about the broken window. I was worried they would think it happened because I was drunk, but it was only 8 p.m. and I'd only had water and 1 glass of wine so far in the evening. Anyway, they know better around here: I am currently suffering from a case of bad luck. My recent dog bite was supposed to be the end of it, but I think it's only the start. I plan to be very careful in the coming days.
Am, the woman who runs this guesthouse and who now probably sees me as a liability (I've noticed people are avoiding me today), suggested I should, perhaps, visit the temple. I have decided that while I don't necessarily share the Asian belief in 'luck', I probably should visit the temple to shed my dark cloud. There are, after all, plane rides and hair cuts in my future...
"Yes, it's OK..." I answered, pulling the covers over my head and reddening cheeks. Earlier, I broke several of the glass slats of our window trying to close them when the handle didn't work. It made a horrendous noise. CRASH, you know what the sound of broken glass hitting cement sounds like: awful and incriminating. I came back to the bar, where Benjamin was sitting.
"Was that you? Are you bleeding?" he asked casually. I think he's getting used to my little accidents.
"Yes, no," I answered -- yes it was me and no I wasn't bleeding. But that wasn't entirely true. I didn't know it at the time because my adrenaline was pumping from the embarrassing noise of the breaking glass. I was bleeding -- somehow I cut my toe on a piece of glass and when my flipflops felt as if I'd walked through a puddle, I looked down to discover the gash.
"Clean it up," Benjamin suggested.
"Yes, clean it up, that's what I'll do," I replied with the faintest glimmer of hope that if I cleaned up the mess, the accident would theoretically never have happened. I learned in childhood to clean up the mess and then admit the accident. It seems less of a 'thing' that way. I cleaned up the broken glass before worrying about my toe in case I further lacerated myself in the 'hide the evidence' process. Not that I was hiding the evidence -- it just made me feel better to have less of it. The open, gaping hole in the window was evidence enough, anyway. There's no hiding that.
I was relieved that no-one was angry or upset about the broken window. I was worried they would think it happened because I was drunk, but it was only 8 p.m. and I'd only had water and 1 glass of wine so far in the evening. Anyway, they know better around here: I am currently suffering from a case of bad luck. My recent dog bite was supposed to be the end of it, but I think it's only the start. I plan to be very careful in the coming days.
Am, the woman who runs this guesthouse and who now probably sees me as a liability (I've noticed people are avoiding me today), suggested I should, perhaps, visit the temple. I have decided that while I don't necessarily share the Asian belief in 'luck', I probably should visit the temple to shed my dark cloud. There are, after all, plane rides and hair cuts in my future...
posted by Cheryn at 12:10 PM
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