I've been tripping over things, jamming fingers, banging knees on doors and getting paper cuts by looking at boxes at Target.
Seriously, who gets not one, but two cuts from the box on an embarrassing feminine product? After I bled on it I had to purchase it. I was also running an errand for Tammy and the twins so besides the bloody box of embarrassment I also had baby bottle nipples and a package of Fig Newtons on the conveyor belt. And the woman in front of me in the line had her credit card denied so there was a big rigmarole and the people in line behind me stacked up. My hand is bleeding and it didn't occur to me to purchase a box of tissues to sop it up. And I was trying to catch the cashier's eye to tell her to let me swipe the box over the scanner so she didn't have to risk touching the soggy box. I'm surprised that I didn't have a stroke by the time it was over.
I tend to be hyperaware of my surroundings and people's feelings. I'm really good at being sensitive to feelings and situations. Not yesterday.
That photo, my friends, is of my Jesus key ring on my display table at the Hebrew congregation in my neighborhood. I hope no one thought that I was making any kind of statement...
And if that was not bad enough, I swore in front of a man of the cloth today. I popped in to the library after work and a man stopped me and asked if I was Nora. Why, yes I am. He introduced himself as the pastor of a neighborhood church and asked if I'd help him find music for the farmer's market that his congregation hosts. Sure, I'd love to.
He handed me his card and I asked if I could give him my email address to send me the details. I remarked that I'd probably use his card as a bookmark and find it weeks later and "wonder why in the Hell I had it."
*sigh. I'm going to bed, before I do anymore damage to myself and others.