So my morning was kind of like the Bermuda Triangle. Only with fire…and near decapitation.
I couldn’t get out of the bed until 5:45 which is ridiculously late, and if this doesn’t seem late, than I hate you and your normal-time-starting job. I would have been able to get out of the bed except my apartment is heavy on the charm, light on the insulation. (Hardwood floors + 50 year old fiberglass insulation) X the original windows ÷ insufficient weather-stripping around the doors = 58 degrees inside my apartment with the heat turned up to 75. On a 19 degree morning, my sense of self-preservation kept me under the warmth of my three down comforters. Especially since those beautiful hardwood floors feel like the 9th circle of (Dante’s) Hell.
I finally got out of the bed and went through my typical morning routine. I sprinted like Flo Jo into the kitchen, turned the oven on to 350, and opened its door so my kitchen (the coldest room in my cold apartment by far) would be warm enough to eat breakfast in. Then I got into the shower which is probably the warmest 5-7 minutes of my day…unless I make the mistake of trying to stay in there for 7 minutes and ten seconds. Then the water turns into these hateful, frozen daggers that stab me in various parts of my anatomy and the rest of my day is a little bit sadder. But today I made it out before my shower turned on me.
I got dressed and remembered that I had to dry and curl my hair since I recently got a hair cut. It’s one of those haircuts that goes against nature, so I have to spend a few extra minutes convincing my newly cut bangs that they want to sit on the left-hand side of my face. So I plugged my curling iron up to get hot while I dried my hair…and this is where things got ugly.
While in the process of drying my hair, I managed to knock my curling iron off of the sink and into my whicker trashcan, where it slowly ignited a pair of dead pantyhose that I’d thrown away in there. If you’ve ever wondered what pantyhose smell like when they are on fire A.) that is highly specific and more than a little odd and B.) it smells bad. Really, really bad.
I actually noticed the smell before the smoke and at first I thought that a small woodland creature had died in my heat vent and I was smelling its decimated remains. But then I noticed the bonfire in my trashcan and I immediately went into panic mode.
I’m not exactly one of those people that works well under pressure; in fact, I tend to shut down or react in the most counterproductive way when faced with a high stress situation. I decided to try and blow the pantyhose flame out like it was some avant-garde birthday candle which only seemed to make the fire bigger. Then I remembered that I was in my bathroom…along with two faucets and a toilet. I turned my sink on and managed to get the fire out pretty quickly.
So, curling my hair was out of the question since there was now a pair of charred pantyhose stuck to my curling iron and I was dangerously close to being late for work. I grabbed my bag, threw my jacket on and ventured out into the frozen tundra that was my car. Thankfully the windshield wasn’t frozen over because I didn’t have time to let the car warm up. I only had about 20 minutes to get to work and I was already going to hit all the middle-school traffic. I shut myself into my car that somehow felt colder than it did outside and headed off to what was sure to be the worst day of work…ever.
Usually the first thing that I do when I get in the car is find something amazing to listen to on the way to work. It’s my favorite part about the drive but I was so cold this morning that I didn’t think about it until I was turning left off of Main Street onto Westover. I leaned in towards my radio so I could turn it on when I felt this horrible pain on the left side of my head.
That’s when I realized that in my haste to get out of the cold air and into my freezing car, I had accidentally shut my messy, uncurled, uncooperative hair into my car door…like a boss. Again, I went into panic mode and started playing this horrible game of tug-a-war with my car door until I finally realized that hey, I was in a safe place and that I just needed to open the door and pull my hair safely inside with me. I stopped in a gas station parking lot and freed myself from the jaws of my Subaru driver-side door (but I couldn’t free myself from my own idiocy).
Opening the car door let in an entirely new gust of glacial air, and I started shivering so bad that my stomach hurt. That’s when I realized that I had forgotten to eat breakfast or grab my lunch out of the refrigerator…which made me think of my kitchen…which made me remember that my oven was still turned onto 350 degrees and that the oven door was still wide open, heating my entire apartment and quite possibly my neighbor's as well.
So that was my morning. I was late to work (and left my coffee cup on top of my car once I got there and by the time I remembered it was out there, the coffee was almost frozen…but I did find an un-opened packet of string cheese in the parking lot that I enjoyed in between 1st and 2nd period…stop judging me…it was delicious) my hair had a giant crease from my car door, and I think I smelled like burnt pantyhose.
It wasn’t until later that I realized the root of all my problems today. It can all be related back to my latent hipster tendencies. Most things that are hip tend to be inconvenient (i.e.: vinyl collections, French presses, skinny jeans (ever seen a guy try to put a wallet in these?), and cardigans) and the entire clustercuss of wretchedness that was my Wednesday morning could be related back to something endearing yet inconvenient that is in my life right now.
First of all, I slept late because my adorable and charming apartment is about as warm as Fargo in February. This also required me to drive back home because of my alternative (and unsustainable) heating methods that will surely make my mother nervous. If it wasn’t for my sassy swoopy bangs, I wouldn’t have needed to use a curling iron this morning. There is nothing functional about bangs; my love and desire to have bangs is a complete concession to vanity. I enjoy that they whimsically fall over the edge of my glasses and cover up some of the emerging wrinkles on my forehead. The pantyhose that nearly caused me to use my renter’s insurance wouldn’t have been in the trashcan if I hadn’t been tricked into buying them by their packaging. Usually I buy cheap, durable pantyhose that come with unromantic, no-nonsense packaging. But instead, I spent a few extra dollars because the packaging on the other pantyhose had the silhouette of a bird on them. I paid for the bird and not for the nylon which meant the pantyhose died after two washes and ended up in the bottom of my trashcan instead of my dresser drawer.
So there you have it. Another inconvenient truth. My hipster tendencies almost burnt down my apartment today while giving me a serious bald spot on the side of my head. Here’s hoping for a better tomorrow.
I couldn’t get out of the bed until 5:45 which is ridiculously late, and if this doesn’t seem late, than I hate you and your normal-time-starting job. I would have been able to get out of the bed except my apartment is heavy on the charm, light on the insulation. (Hardwood floors + 50 year old fiberglass insulation) X the original windows ÷ insufficient weather-stripping around the doors = 58 degrees inside my apartment with the heat turned up to 75. On a 19 degree morning, my sense of self-preservation kept me under the warmth of my three down comforters. Especially since those beautiful hardwood floors feel like the 9th circle of (Dante’s) Hell.
I finally got out of the bed and went through my typical morning routine. I sprinted like Flo Jo into the kitchen, turned the oven on to 350, and opened its door so my kitchen (the coldest room in my cold apartment by far) would be warm enough to eat breakfast in. Then I got into the shower which is probably the warmest 5-7 minutes of my day…unless I make the mistake of trying to stay in there for 7 minutes and ten seconds. Then the water turns into these hateful, frozen daggers that stab me in various parts of my anatomy and the rest of my day is a little bit sadder. But today I made it out before my shower turned on me.
I got dressed and remembered that I had to dry and curl my hair since I recently got a hair cut. It’s one of those haircuts that goes against nature, so I have to spend a few extra minutes convincing my newly cut bangs that they want to sit on the left-hand side of my face. So I plugged my curling iron up to get hot while I dried my hair…and this is where things got ugly.
While in the process of drying my hair, I managed to knock my curling iron off of the sink and into my whicker trashcan, where it slowly ignited a pair of dead pantyhose that I’d thrown away in there. If you’ve ever wondered what pantyhose smell like when they are on fire A.) that is highly specific and more than a little odd and B.) it smells bad. Really, really bad.
I actually noticed the smell before the smoke and at first I thought that a small woodland creature had died in my heat vent and I was smelling its decimated remains. But then I noticed the bonfire in my trashcan and I immediately went into panic mode.
I’m not exactly one of those people that works well under pressure; in fact, I tend to shut down or react in the most counterproductive way when faced with a high stress situation. I decided to try and blow the pantyhose flame out like it was some avant-garde birthday candle which only seemed to make the fire bigger. Then I remembered that I was in my bathroom…along with two faucets and a toilet. I turned my sink on and managed to get the fire out pretty quickly.
So, curling my hair was out of the question since there was now a pair of charred pantyhose stuck to my curling iron and I was dangerously close to being late for work. I grabbed my bag, threw my jacket on and ventured out into the frozen tundra that was my car. Thankfully the windshield wasn’t frozen over because I didn’t have time to let the car warm up. I only had about 20 minutes to get to work and I was already going to hit all the middle-school traffic. I shut myself into my car that somehow felt colder than it did outside and headed off to what was sure to be the worst day of work…ever.
Usually the first thing that I do when I get in the car is find something amazing to listen to on the way to work. It’s my favorite part about the drive but I was so cold this morning that I didn’t think about it until I was turning left off of Main Street onto Westover. I leaned in towards my radio so I could turn it on when I felt this horrible pain on the left side of my head.
That’s when I realized that in my haste to get out of the cold air and into my freezing car, I had accidentally shut my messy, uncurled, uncooperative hair into my car door…like a boss. Again, I went into panic mode and started playing this horrible game of tug-a-war with my car door until I finally realized that hey, I was in a safe place and that I just needed to open the door and pull my hair safely inside with me. I stopped in a gas station parking lot and freed myself from the jaws of my Subaru driver-side door (but I couldn’t free myself from my own idiocy).
Opening the car door let in an entirely new gust of glacial air, and I started shivering so bad that my stomach hurt. That’s when I realized that I had forgotten to eat breakfast or grab my lunch out of the refrigerator…which made me think of my kitchen…which made me remember that my oven was still turned onto 350 degrees and that the oven door was still wide open, heating my entire apartment and quite possibly my neighbor's as well.
So that was my morning. I was late to work (and left my coffee cup on top of my car once I got there and by the time I remembered it was out there, the coffee was almost frozen…but I did find an un-opened packet of string cheese in the parking lot that I enjoyed in between 1st and 2nd period…stop judging me…it was delicious) my hair had a giant crease from my car door, and I think I smelled like burnt pantyhose.
It wasn’t until later that I realized the root of all my problems today. It can all be related back to my latent hipster tendencies. Most things that are hip tend to be inconvenient (i.e.: vinyl collections, French presses, skinny jeans (ever seen a guy try to put a wallet in these?), and cardigans) and the entire clustercuss of wretchedness that was my Wednesday morning could be related back to something endearing yet inconvenient that is in my life right now.
First of all, I slept late because my adorable and charming apartment is about as warm as Fargo in February. This also required me to drive back home because of my alternative (and unsustainable) heating methods that will surely make my mother nervous. If it wasn’t for my sassy swoopy bangs, I wouldn’t have needed to use a curling iron this morning. There is nothing functional about bangs; my love and desire to have bangs is a complete concession to vanity. I enjoy that they whimsically fall over the edge of my glasses and cover up some of the emerging wrinkles on my forehead. The pantyhose that nearly caused me to use my renter’s insurance wouldn’t have been in the trashcan if I hadn’t been tricked into buying them by their packaging. Usually I buy cheap, durable pantyhose that come with unromantic, no-nonsense packaging. But instead, I spent a few extra dollars because the packaging on the other pantyhose had the silhouette of a bird on them. I paid for the bird and not for the nylon which meant the pantyhose died after two washes and ended up in the bottom of my trashcan instead of my dresser drawer.
So there you have it. Another inconvenient truth. My hipster tendencies almost burnt down my apartment today while giving me a serious bald spot on the side of my head. Here’s hoping for a better tomorrow.
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