Mondays are synonymous with bad luck, as we all know. There is even a word for it: Mondayitis. But I never really believed in the Monday curse. Not until today, anyway. After a very busy weekend (I’m going to write a separate blog about my Saturday), which included a close friend’s wedding yesterday afternoon, I wasn’t exactly the sharpest prickle on the cactus this morning. As I was leaving the house, I realised I’d left my sunglasses at the wedding reception.
Now, under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been much of a problem. I refuse to buy expensive sunglasses because I WILL lose them at some point in the future. The amazing thing about this particular pair of sunglasses is that I’ve managed to hold on to them for a few years now.
So anyway, my wife and I have a spare pair (meaning neither of us are willing to be seen wearing them in public generally, but they do in emergency cases) in our car. So I went to the car, got out the spares and found my mobile phone in there too, which I hadn’t even realised I was missing. By this time, the bus had just pulled up to the stop. I had to run to catch it in time. So, I got on the bus, paid my fare and took a seat right up the back. I went to put the sunglasses on and realised they were very dirty. I took a tissue out of my bag and started cleaning the glasses. As I did, the lens on one side popped out and fell in a join between the seat cushions. By this stage, I was starting to feel a little peeved. It was very bright and my eyes were screaming at me to cover them up. So I reached down with a finger to try and coax the errant lens back up. Much to my dismay, my finger got stuck.
So, picture this: I am sitting with my hand between my legs, one finger extended into a crack between the seats, and me pulling for all I’m worth trying to remove it. The girl sharing the back seat with me looked across and down at my finger and then very quickly back to the book she was reading as she tried to subtly slide across the seat as far away from me as possible. I attempted to grin and explain my predicament, but as I looked across at her, a flash of sunlight reflecting off a passing car shone right into my already-weakened eyes. So instead of an elegant description of my problem, she sees a man grimacing, eyes squinted up and running with tears, pulling on something between his legs, and issuing an unintelligible “aaarrrggh”. By this time, the poor girl has pressed herself up against the bus window, her eyes darting around like a scared rabbit looking for an escape.
It was about then I had a flash of inspiration, lifted my bum off the seat and therefore releasing my trapped digit. I looked across at the girl, waving my finger around like a switchblade. It was at this point that my dignity, already well put out, decided to complete fold. So I’m standing there, finger pointed at this poor girl saying “I got it” over and over. I then realised how silly, or possibly dangerous I looked and sat back down. I got off the bus a couple of stops later. As I did, I took one last look at the poor girl who I probably scarred for life. I tried to smile, but she wouldn’t look at me.
To cap off the great start, as I was stepping from the bus, I tripped and fell, right in front of a group of building workers, who burst out laughing. I limped off to work, cursing Monday’s forever more.