I’m that person… listening to Christmas music already.
I can’t help it. Pandora makes it SO easy. And if anyone has a Michael Bublé or Rod Stewart Christmas CD that they want to burn me a copy of, be my guest… I’ll consider it three years worth of Christmas gifts from you to me. Repaid with pug snuggles.
I got home around 5:45 today from my work overnight trip… and immediately turned on Christmas music and started cleaning. Our new property manager is coming by tomorrow to meet us and see the house… our tiles smelling like pug piss probably won’t impress him.
(Note: B mopped the floor on Monday and Harley did his world-famous walk-and-pee-and-walk-and-pee-and-wait-am-I-peeing? move. So I mopped again. And hand scrubbed. And bleached. And swiffered.)
Pandora Christmas music filled my house and made the back-breaking cleaning more tolerable. And then, Silver Bells came on.
Silver Bells has a special place in my heart. Because of Christmas Eve 1998.
(Fuzzy time-warp transition to 1998.) To put things into perspective… this is how I was looking circa ’98:
(THE HOTNESS. I know. It’s the choker.)
It had finally snowed. I wanted to go outside and check out the snow, but needed my jacket’s hood. I am sort of a disgusting person when it comes to keeping my clothes clean and organized, so I had to put a chair on top of the pile of clothes in my closet to stand on to reach my jacket’s hood on the top shelf. When I grabbed it, I jumped off the chair onto the pile of clothes, barefoot.
Onto a pencil.
Yes, the pencil went into my foot. It had been somewhat jagged to begin with… no idea why I threw it on my closet floor broken. There was blood… and splinters… and talks of lead poisoning. Off to the doc-in-a-box we went.
It hurt a lot, and I sort of went a bit loopy while we waited. I remember looking at a magazine and seeing an ad for one of those AWESOME Nokia cell phone covers. It was red with some silver designs, and had “silver bells” in script going across it.
I knew Silver Bells was a song, but in my delirium I couldn’t remember how it went. I knew I knew it, but couldn’t get the words out.
We make it back to the doctor, and I have to get an x-ray to check for fragments in my foot (I think. I remember having it checked out under some machine.) Then, the doctor had to perform excisional surgery to remove the wood and graphite from my foot. (I learned it was graphite because I asked “Hey Doc… am I going to get lead poisoning?” he replied that it was actually graphite in pencils now, and so I asked, “Hey Doc… so am I going to get graphite poisoning?” He explained that I would not, but that I would get antibiotics to ward off any issues. He also clearly didn’t enjoy being called Doc.)
I’m just blabbering away (nerves/pain does that to me) and all of a sudden… Silver Bells comes to me. And I start to sing.
It’s Christmas timeeeeeeeeeee
in the cityyyyyyyyy
You can see where this is going. I didn’t know anything past “city,” so I just kept singing “city.”
Needless to say, that doctor did not have a Merry Christmas 1998. I sure did though.
Although, I still went to relatives for Christmas Eve that night and bled through my super cool platform Skechers that looked something like this:
A tragic loss for 1998 as a whole.
I still have a bump of a scar from this injury… and Silver Bells still makes me smile. I have no idea what happened on Christmas Eve 1997, or 1999… it could certainly have gone smoother in 1998, but at least it was unforgettable!
PS… Thirty Days of Thanks #14: I’m thankful for my huge, amazing, crazy (in a good way) extended family! I have dozens of aunts and uncles and cousins and they’re all hilarious, thoughtful, and tons of fun. Even when I bleed through my Skechers.