Sunday Morning Trauma
June 14, 2010
Apparently Colorado felt nostalgic for winter this past weekend. It got all freezing and rainy and awful. Also, humid. And my hair got a tiny bit poofy. It is such a shame when there’s some humidity around. My hair likes to jump out and greet it with gusto.
Oh, man. Yesterday morning I went to the 8 a.m. service at church, which meant that I had to get up earlier than normal, which obviously meant that I was running late. I hopped (and by hopped, I mean “got in normally”) into my car and headed out, running about ten minutes late. As I was driving along the busy street near my house, I looked over to the side of the road, and I swear to you, I saw what looked like a decaying human arm sticking out of the grass. I saw fingers and everything. And it was long. And sickly gray. Oh my gosh, I was so horrified. That is not something you need to see at 7:45 in the morning, you guys.
Immediately my mind started racing. I should turn around and check to make sure it was an arm, I thought. But what if it was an arm attached to a body that was hidden in the grass? I might vomit. I am already late for church; I don’t have time to go back, I reasoned. I have to go worship the Lord and try to forget about that dead person by my house. What if he was murdered? I need to report this to the police. Oh man, and then the news stations will want to interview me. What should I say? What should I wear for my on-camera appearances? Will “Good Morning America” pick this story up? What if I suddenly became a suspect in this guy’s murder? I was just driving to church, people. I didn’t kill him!
I went on to church and enjoyed a great worship service. Then I drove to Denver to meet one of my college friends for lunch. And I had to do a bit of shopping while I was up there. I figured that surely someone else had seen that arm sticking out on the side of the road by now. (Also, I kind of forgot about the arm whilst enjoying my salad at The Cheesecake Factory.) It was not until I was on my way to Blockbuster to return a movie last night that I checked to see if the arm was still there. It totally was! But as I got closer, I realized it look suspiciously less arm-like, and a bit more like a pipe. A long, gray pipe. Whatever.
It was a relief, really. Now I wouldn’t have to stress about a cute outfit for my interviews.
So, I took a picture of the “arm” for you guys. It’s quite hard to see because I took this picture while I was driving, which I think was a really safe idea. I couldn’t get a close-up of the arm because of all the driving, and also because a close-up would’ve probably made it look much more like a pipe. It’s on the right side near the curb. See it?! It’s a pipe, not an arm.
Here are a couple of things I’ve contemplated since discovering the pipe/arm.
1. I don’t do well at life in the morning.
2. How did I imagine all those fingers on that pipe?
3. What if the murderer came and got the arm after I saw it yesterday morning and then replaced it with a pipe in order to make me think that I just imagined the arm?
4. What is wrong with me?
In unrelated news, I’ve been having trouble seeing with my new contacts. Things are blurry and I have to squint to see numbers on the TV. I’m not sure what to do. If the eye doctor diagnosed me the wrong prescription, will they give me a new eye exam for free? For some reason, I think not.
The Celtics are on a rampage! Bam!
OK, I need to go. Next time I am really going to write something useful. I PROMISE. Unless I see another plumbing device on the side of the road. I mean, that’s pretty newsworthy.