Rough week. Yesterday was the worst, which started off the night before, when Zoe announced she would be unavailable for an hour, as she was taking a bath. You know, with all the lady oils and shit in the water. Then she apparently only did a cursory rinsing of the tub afterward. Leaving a wonderful surprise for me, the next morning, which was yesterday morning, as I went to take my morning shower. As I put my left foot down, I felt something viscous. So I shifted my left foot more center tub as I brought my left foot in. However, I knew, as my right foot came into the shower, for certain, I was in serious trouble. I had stepped into what can only be described as a thin layer of snot, and as my right foot tried to find its balance, I was going down.
What happened next was all in some weird kind of slow motion. My body slammed into the shower curtain, and I started thinking, Wow. So this is how I go out. Killed by my daughter's laziness. I was now caught up in the curtain, like a dolphin in fishing net.I hear the sounds of the curtain rod ripping from its anchors in the wall. Oh, good, I thought, I didn't hit my head on the toilet. Oh, shit...the door frame! I slammed hard on the floor, on the flat of my back, and shifted my eyes, and looked to my right, as I did, seeing I'd just missed the door frame, as my head smacked, thankfully, outside the bathroom, on the carpeted floor. Everything that could go right, when something goes horribly wrong, had happened.
I lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling fan, motionless, all swaddled in my shower curtain cocoon. I wasn't freaked out. I just sat there, getting angry. At what? I'll tell you, I was growing angrier, by the second, at Zoe.
Then I realized, I better calm down and check if I was damaged. I moved my feet first, then my head. Good, no spinal injury.
I reached up and grabbed my phone, sitting only inches from me. I opened messenger and began sending texts to Zoe. After about a dozen quick messages, of which ended with one brief "Thank you for trying to kill me, AND establishing your alibi of being at work when it happened. Well played." Of course I was joking. But, I was in an angry frame of mind and my humor is known for being very cutting when I'm in a bad mood.
Then, just as I hit send on that last message, Zoe calls me. I answer the phone, still lying like a burrito, wrapping in a shower curtain. I answer, "Yes? Zoe? HELLO?" Nothing. She butt dialed me. I hung up. Then, I decided I better get up. I rolled over and out of the curtain, stood up, feeling like I'd been hit in the back by a baseball bat. I'eve been hit by a bat, in the back, so I know the frame of reference. I walk out, naked, into the living room, and plop down on the sofa.
The phone rings again. It's Zoe calling again.
I answer, "Yes? Are you there?"
She replies, "Yes," and then begins to yell at me, "Why are you calling me? You know I'm at work!"
Me, "I didn't call you. You called me."
Zoe, "No, I meant the call before this."
Me, "That was you, as well. You butt dialed me after I sent you a bunch of texts."
Zoe, "Oh. Well, okay. I saw those. But, I have to go. I'm at work."
Me, "Okay. Well, again, thanks for trying to kill me."
Zoe, "I'm really sorry, dad. I really am, but I have to go."
Me, "Okay. I'll see you when you get home. Unless you have any more hidden elaborate traps that will do me in, before you get home."
Zoe, "No. I don't! I love you. Bye."
Me, "Yaaay, a win for me. Love you, too. Bye."
The rest of the day was really boring shit. So, I end the story there.
Today is Zoe's birthday. She's 18. I will make her a cake. But, I am going to be doing it both in pain, AND in protest. I told her, "If you try killing me again, just so you know, you will now be tried as an adult. So. You should know that."
She laughed.
That is all.
What happened next was all in some weird kind of slow motion. My body slammed into the shower curtain, and I started thinking, Wow. So this is how I go out. Killed by my daughter's laziness. I was now caught up in the curtain, like a dolphin in fishing net.I hear the sounds of the curtain rod ripping from its anchors in the wall. Oh, good, I thought, I didn't hit my head on the toilet. Oh, shit...the door frame! I slammed hard on the floor, on the flat of my back, and shifted my eyes, and looked to my right, as I did, seeing I'd just missed the door frame, as my head smacked, thankfully, outside the bathroom, on the carpeted floor. Everything that could go right, when something goes horribly wrong, had happened.
I lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling fan, motionless, all swaddled in my shower curtain cocoon. I wasn't freaked out. I just sat there, getting angry. At what? I'll tell you, I was growing angrier, by the second, at Zoe.
Then I realized, I better calm down and check if I was damaged. I moved my feet first, then my head. Good, no spinal injury.
I reached up and grabbed my phone, sitting only inches from me. I opened messenger and began sending texts to Zoe. After about a dozen quick messages, of which ended with one brief "Thank you for trying to kill me, AND establishing your alibi of being at work when it happened. Well played." Of course I was joking. But, I was in an angry frame of mind and my humor is known for being very cutting when I'm in a bad mood.
Then, just as I hit send on that last message, Zoe calls me. I answer the phone, still lying like a burrito, wrapping in a shower curtain. I answer, "Yes? Zoe? HELLO?" Nothing. She butt dialed me. I hung up. Then, I decided I better get up. I rolled over and out of the curtain, stood up, feeling like I'd been hit in the back by a baseball bat. I'eve been hit by a bat, in the back, so I know the frame of reference. I walk out, naked, into the living room, and plop down on the sofa.
The phone rings again. It's Zoe calling again.
I answer, "Yes? Are you there?"
She replies, "Yes," and then begins to yell at me, "Why are you calling me? You know I'm at work!"
Me, "I didn't call you. You called me."
Zoe, "No, I meant the call before this."
Me, "That was you, as well. You butt dialed me after I sent you a bunch of texts."
Zoe, "Oh. Well, okay. I saw those. But, I have to go. I'm at work."
Me, "Okay. Well, again, thanks for trying to kill me."
Zoe, "I'm really sorry, dad. I really am, but I have to go."
Me, "Okay. I'll see you when you get home. Unless you have any more hidden elaborate traps that will do me in, before you get home."
Zoe, "No. I don't! I love you. Bye."
Me, "Yaaay, a win for me. Love you, too. Bye."
The rest of the day was really boring shit. So, I end the story there.
Today is Zoe's birthday. She's 18. I will make her a cake. But, I am going to be doing it both in pain, AND in protest. I told her, "If you try killing me again, just so you know, you will now be tried as an adult. So. You should know that."
She laughed.
That is all.
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