So it was Monday, about two weeks ago, which is bad enough if you ask me; but compounding it was the fact that I had a few forbidden glasses of wine on Sunday night. I have sworn off wine for quite some time but it just seemed necessary that Sunday night to…I don’t know…stretch out the weekend, extend the feeling of freedom, none of which it does in reality. Reality is just a tough Monday. I don’t always sleep well when I drink wine so I was a few hours short on sleep. To top it off, it snowed on Sunday night. Now, this is Michigan. A little snow doesn’t rattle us. But it was April 6th and had been almost 70 degrees on the weekend and after a long snowy Michigan winter, it was kind of the last straw. But whatever. Thinking that the snow was the real wet kind and the temps not too low, I heated up my car so the snow would hopefully just slide off and I wouldn’t have to scrape. But in the true spirit of Monday, all snow was intact on all windows. I was running late so I figured that I’d use the wipers and roll the windows down to get the snow off.
Again, I have lived here all my life! I know about snow okay? I had all of my stuff on the car seat including a bunch of shower invitations I was mailing out for my daughter’s baby shower. I’m sure you rational thinkers already guessed the outcome. I rolled the windows down but the snow stayed in position, for as long as it could really – before it fell into the car – all over me on my side and on all my stuff on the other side including the invitations. So that was the start of my Monday. Note to self – you know better than that – it has never worked!
The rest of the work day was probably “business as usual” but in my somewhat altered and slightly stressed state, things seemed a bit out of proportion. And man, was I tired. I won’t go in to all the murky details of a work day that also happens to be a Monday. Suffice it to say that I relieved to see 4:30.
I left work and drove to pick up a prescription at an area Costco. On my way home, I was passing a cemetery that my best childhood friend happens to be buried in. She’s been gone a long time and I don’t go often anymore, but I thought about her and decided I’d stop for a minute.
I parked and got out of my car, stepping on the snow covered grass to walk toward her grave which is maybe ten yards from the road. I took about three steps when my left leg sunk calf high into soft wet mud. I almost fell but caught myself as my right leg sunk in as well, just below knee high. I can’t tell you exactly what went through my head at that moment. But picture, images of biblical proportions – the ground opening up and swallowing me…hands pulling me into the grave…candid camera, just to name a few absurdities that passed through my head at warp speed. Before I even had a chance to pull a leg up out of the muck, I sunk even further. Within seconds, I was at knee level in wet mud on a freshly dug grave.
To say I panicked is an understatement. But to my credit, I didn’t scream. As a rule, I generally flourish under pressure and after I got my bearings and realized there were no hands groping, no ground opening up – no living dead… just me…standing on a freshly dug grave that had been camouflaged by snow, having a Monday. Note to self – go straight home after a day that started out like this.
It took a little doing to get my feet out of the muck – I was down pretty deep. And my next few steps were fraught with exertion through yet more of the freshly dug grave. I had a long wool dress coat on which made my escape a little more awkward. I finally hauled my mud besotted self on to solid ground and looked around to see if anyone had seen this debacle. Nope. Thankfully, I wore short boots that day for the first time in a few weeks because if I’d worn shoes, they would now belong to the deceased, whomever he or she may be. I looked at my friend’s gravestone and decided to forgo the visit. Note to self – only visit cemeteries on good days.
That crazy little experience bothered me on so many levels. I mean, really? Sinking into a grave in a cemetery on a gloomy Monday evening when I feel like crap both mentally and physically? What’s up with that? Is the universe trying to tell me something? Is it a sign? Is it God? Or am I just looking for an excuse to have a glass of Monday wine? I decided on the latter. So, I had a glass of wine and ate half a bag of chocolate Easter eggs for dinner. All better! Note to self – there is a word for this…I think they call it self sabotage!
