Last week while shaving my legs and due in large part to how unbelievably, um, thrifty, I am, I sliced the garbanzo beans out of my legs. Both were bleeding but one especially so. This is how I know it is time to change blades, when the bleeding starts. So, I did what I always do, apply pressure and toss the old blade. But last week, I could not get the bleeding to end. Instead I bleed all over the bathroom floor while I thought the pieces of paper towel I had shoved against the gashes were doing there job (which is to say, absorbing the liquid). They were not and my bathroom floor can show you all about it (well, it could have had I not emptied all that Resolve onto it). In the middle of all this triage, I had the following thought “I wonder if Augmentin (the drug I am ingesting for my sinus infection) is an anti-coagulant.” It was dumb, obviously, to think that. But I wondered anyway and contemplated it for quite some time (read: while I was blow drying my hair) because the bleeding had not stopped immediately. It is the same way that I assume our computer is being over run with viruses when I click on a new web page and it takes more than two shakes for the thing to load. For the briefest of moments I thought, “I might actually die from this cut” . And there it is. My irrational thinking right out there for you enjoy. Slice your ankle with a razor and get a cut that requires you to go beyond a simple bandaid and you are suddenly a hemophiliac, at least a drug induced one.
Later, I shared this story with Jud and he was reminded of a very different insane thought that once passed through his mind while in the bathroom. You’ll need some back story first….
Early one morning, Jud awoke to get ready for work. Not wanting to wake anyone, he barely twisted the knob on the dimmer switch and went about his usual bathroom routine. While in the shower, he was shampooing and rinsing when he closed his eyes and stepped back into the water for the final rinse. Emerging from under the shower head, he opened his eyes and found that nothing changed. His eyes open or his eyes closed were exactly the same in their pitch blackness and he thought this: “I think I just went blind.” He stood there for a bit, mulling over the idea that he had sight and then, in an instant, it had been snatched from him, when he finally realized that the tiny dimmer switch knob had shifted ever so slightly and turned off.
I cannot wait to hear the places where our children’s minds will jump to. It’s going to be such a great ride.
