I'm constantly learning new things about myself. And this week has been no exception. This week I've learned:
1. I can't tell a short version of anything. When I say, this is the short version of what happened, it turns out to be maybe only one or two words less than the "long version." Sigh.
2. I'm a drama magnet. Okay, so this I've already known for quite sometime. But this week just further reminds me of this, you know, in case I forgot while in my quiet little bubble of happiness.
3. A writer (namely me) should never fill out a police (incident) report. Why? Because there are only so many characters you can use to tell your story (incident). Also, excessive usage of verbs and adjectives are to be avoided (who knew?) Also, see #1.
So these three very important and invaluable life lessons all came into play just the other day. All within hours. I would now like to say I'm going to give you the short version of what happened, but we'd all know I'd be lying.
But don't worry, I'm not going to force anyone to read *millions of words in a single blog post. If it gets too long (and let's face it, you know it will) I'll break this up into a few blog posts. A continuous, suspenseful retelling, complete with direct quotes from witnesses. And those who weren't there but have heard this story already.
*I also tend to over exaggerate. But hardly ever.
This particular story aka incident aka dramatic overdose begins early in the morning. Noting the time of day IS important because it explains the rats nest on top of head (even though you can't see it, I still feel the need to explain) . But more importantly, because my youngest son was still asleep and we all know how important it is for kids to have their full 15+ hours of sleep, right?
So, you can imagine why I might be concerned when there is pounding on my front door. And when I say pounding, I am NOT exaggerating this time. No. It was a continuous and constant pounding of fists on my door. A pounding like, this-is-a-life-and-death-situation-and-there's-a-fire-and-the-world-is-ending-I'm-knocking-your-door-down type pounding.
A pounding probably similar to the headache you're experiencing at this very moment. Sorry, btw.
My concern turned to annoyance turned to anger before I could even reach the door. Now, it's probably also important to explain my thought process here. Because I'm sure you're wondering, why would you be upset if there's a possible emergency? It's because my thought process kicked into super high gear (which amazed even myself) and I reached the following conclusion within about 3.5 seconds of walking to the door. Okay, that's a lie. It was probably closer to a minute. I was walking tired-slow and had to scoop up my barking dog first.
Thought process: Who's beating down my door? It's too early for mail, and a package delivery is so not that urgent (although some of you might disagree) and it's definitely too early for solicitors. My other son is at work. My other other son was already at school. Husband is at work. So yeah, my family is safe. And I don't smell smoke. So basically anything that mattered to me wasn't in jeopardy and therefore, not an emergency, therefore, not requiring the level of pounding down my door that was currently being asserted. Also, this would totally wake up my son.
When I open my front door, I don't just "open" it. I actually throw it open with the same level of aggressiveness that's being used on the other side of the door. And I really don't recommend this because I almost knocked myself out by not giving myself enough space to perform this aggressive door-opening task. And if you think I'm exaggerating, that this kind of thing doesn't actually happen, then I encourage to read one of my other posts, How To Give Yourself An Eyeball Papercut.
On the other side of the door, I come face to face with....
To be continued...
Sorry, guys. I know you're in total suspense and you're waving your fist and cursing at the cliffhanger, but I warned you. I did say it would probably be a bit long so I figured this was the best and only way to end Part 1.
Leave a comment on what you think I saw once I opened the door, but ONLY if you haven't heard this story from me already.