Everyone has a talent, skill of flair for something… However not everyone’s talents or skills are particularly useful and some are ridiculously annoying. I have this skill for attracting chaos and mayhem whilst trying to do the simplest of tasks. In fact I have found that the more important the event or situation I am trying to manage, the more likely of a fiasco I will make it.
For example, a few years ago I had landed an interview for my dream job as a Content Writer. I needed this to go right and set about putting all my ducks in a row. I had a new outfit and had arranged for my hairdressing friend to do my hair and I even had my writing portfolio in order. I went to bed early and was awoken around 1am to a torch shining through my bedroom window and a man’s voice yelling “is everything alright in there ma’am?”. I launched out of bed and saw through the blinds my front yard lit up like a Christmas tree with an Ambulance and a Police patrol car. I went to the door looking like a tired deer in the headlights and the Police man said again “is everything alright in there ma’am?” I replied “I think so, I have a really big job interview tomorrow but aside from that I think I am ok”. He then informed me that an emergency call had been made from my residence and no one had spoken. We didn’t have a land line phone and no one had called from the mobiles so they apologised and packed up their equipment and drove off. After that I could not sleep and went to the interview all tired and strung out. The real kicker was when I went to leave the interview and I shook the man’s hand and said “all the best in finding the right candidate for the role”, I think my face gave away my horror at having just accidently verbalised that I was not in fact the right candidate…
Anyways, this kind of weird chaos happens every time I need to have my shit well and truly together. Recently I was asked to read a poem at a funeral for a very close family friend. I was honoured to do this and swore to myself that I was going to master this without incident. The first problem came in the form of having an infected tooth removed and having a dental plate installed two days prior. I didn’t realise I would be left with such a radical lisp. So I decided I needed to practise talking in order to not spit all over the people in attendance at the funeral. I always read story books to my kids, but I upped the ante and started reading around 8 books a night. The kids were all tired and even asked if they could just go to sleep. I replied “no, mum needs to practise her talking and you will sit here and listen to every damn word I have to say”. My daughter said “can’t you just go talk to dad all night?” The answer was a firm “no because he stopped listening to me years ago and will not give me the painfully honest truth that you kids will”.
After I put the kids to bed I threw open my wardrobe to find some sensible and responsible clothing. I dug deep amongst the mountains of band hoodies and obscene t-shirts and came up with nothing but a pair of old maternity pants that almost reach my armpits (and not in the fashionable high waisted manner). I decided I needed the help of a more adulty adult than myself. I phoned up and pal and rustled up a suitable outfit.
On the day of the funeral I had dropped the kids off at day care and school and allowed myself more than enough time to get ready. Bear in mind I am a work from home mum so I don’t always abide by the ‘hygiene standards’ of the working world and average a shower every second day (don’t judge me, I am just busy). Anyways on Monday I was outrageously on day three without a shower, but I had grand plans of scrubbing myself senseless. I nude up and turn on the tap and fuck me running…..no water. This cannot be happening, I smell like Satan’s anus! I race around the house nude trying every tap in the house searching for some precious H20 and we had nothing. I wrapped my nudeness in my leopard print snuggy and contemplated running across the road to ask our elderly neighbour to borrow their shower but he already looks at us like we crapped in his indoor plants so I was confident he would say no. Luckily the kettle had a whisper of water so I boiled that bastard and had a sponge bath in the kitchen sink. Heaven help a prowler that may have been peeping in because that shit would have scorched his retinas permanently.
I finally got on my way and felt ok about myself, I believed I had triumphed over adversity. I delivered my poem without blowing out my fake tooth and did not need to resort to wearing a pine tree car air freshener around my neck as I had bathed in perfume. I was stoked that I got shit done despite my life going haywire around me.
The lesson being, no matter what goes wrong, you gotta keep going and fight back.
PS the water was restored by the time I got home, turns out it was maintenance works being done at exactly the time I needed it most.