It rained babies yesterday: Allison had her baby, a boy, and my friend Rileigh had a girl. Nice work guys.
From late 2003 until I got married in January 2005, I lived with Claire in a one bedroom apartment on Ferrini Road. I usually went to bed first (surprise, surprise). Sometimes, when Claire came to bed, she'd close the door to our room. I'm not sure why she did this. (My guess is to cut down on noise. Claire's a pretty light sleeper and we did live in a college-y part of town.)
In the middle of the night, when I'd have to get up to go to the bathroom, because she only sometimes closed the door, I'd often forget to walk with my hands in front of me and I'd run face first into the door. I did this probably 5 or 6 times.
Finally, it happened two trips in a row. The next trip, determined not to bang my face into the door, I walked with my hands out in front of me. I was so proud of myself that I remembered, when the door hit me in the face anyway. What? The door opened inward and the skinny end had passed perfectly in between my two hands. I knew it wasn't true, but at that moment, I was sure that either Claire or the door was out to get me.
3 comments:
I believe that after we die, we will be able to check out DVDs of our life to watch at leisure. I hope we're allowed to check out other people's DVDs, too, because this episode is one I'd DEFINITELY want to see.
That reminds me of our first night in Maryland, when I woke up to go to the bathroom and was all disoriented. I,too, walked into the door, and it lopped a chunk off my toe. Ouch.
Is it too late to say I'm sorry?
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