Carpet Tacks are Jerks

Imagine the scene if you will: 3 am or some other ungodly hour. Just finished another episode of Dawson's Creek (which is awesome by the way). I think I'm starving...or at least the alien noises coming from my stomach indicate this to be true. So, I head to the kitchen. I manage to avoid all of the sharp puppy toy landmines Matilda set out before she went to bed (that brat) and am almost to the kitchen when suddenly, out of no where, an ASSHOLE carpet tack jumps up exactly where I'm about to step. So of course I step on it. When this happens, I will usually have one of 3 reactions:

Reaction 1: Sudden pain reaction: aka the RAGE. This reaction usually involves several of my favorite swear words (which I won't write here because I know my mom reads this blog-Hi Mom!) followed by a kick/punch/flipping something over which makes me even madder and in more pain than I was initially. I'm not good with sudden unexpected pain. (If I stub my toe or bite my cheek--look out!) This reaction also happens most often. The rage usually subsides in a matter of moments and I'm back on a food mission.

Reaction 2: Recoil reaction: This reaction includes a quick hop in any direction but down, a quick inhale of breath because I stopped breathing when I felt the tack start to pierce my skin, and then more swearing when I realize I'm wearing socks and the carpet tack has just ripped another hole in my sock. Not as much rage with this reaction, but it usually means I have to throw my socks away. And then my feet get cold and then I'm crabby, but not awful. A snack usually helps and since this is what I was headed to the kitchen for anyway, it's all good.

Reaction 3: Frantic retaliation reaction: I will fully step on the tack out of spite thinking the weight of my body will shove it back to HELL where it came from. I then rapidly flip the light on and throw myself on the floor to search for the tack, turning my head sideways to the floor with one eye closed to find its jerk face sticking up out of the carpet. Sometimes I've got the hammer or a shoe or something when I do this, does that count? But by the time all of this happens, the carpet tack has retreated back into it's evil lair to wait for it's next victim. I shake my fist at the supposed location of the carpet tack and curse its exsistence.

Well, you'd think by now I'd learn to gauge the distance to the wood floor in the kitchen and avoid the line between the carpet and the wood floor, but more often than not I either misjudge or I'm too tired to care and I end up along that line. It's a complete crapshoot as to which reaction I'll have, or if it'll be a combination of them. Someday I'll find that damn tack and I'll nail it's ass back to the floor where it belongs...until then, you might want to wear earmuffs to visit if you're easily offended by violent swear words and flying tables. And if you're not, we can probably be friends because that happens a lot. You could even join in if you want!

My Shower Rocks!

One of the first things I wanted to add to the new apartment when I moved in was a GIANT shower head. It only took me a year and a half to do it, does that count? Before the new shower head, there was a tiny little shower head that barely drizzled enough water onto my body so I didn't freeze to death. I was constantly moving and spinning and shifting to get water anywhere but on my shoulder. I was barely able to get enough water to soak the body scrub, let alone wash my hair in less than 30 minutes or say, shave my legs. Granted, I'm remarkably skilled at shaving my legs in the bathroom sink but all it takes is a few slips and you look like you tried shaving with a kitten. This particular shower head, I'm fairly certain, was installed when the apartment was built, or was borrowed from an apartment built in the '80s. Either way, it was a piece of silver shit. Several of the holes on the side of it were blocked by mineral buildup, and several of the water sprays went straight over the top of the shower curtain. There were days it looked like there was more water on the floor than in the shower itself. Not only did the shower not fulfill my needs, but Cooper and Matilda suffered as well. And you might be asking yourself, "Self, do dogs really have shower needs?" And the answer to that question is yes. The fact you are asking this question makes me think you don't care about your shower head. It also tells me you may not have dogs. (Shame on you, dogs are awesome!) On the occasion that it was puppy bath time, I would have to practically sit in the tub with them and pour water out of a cup on them. They'd give me a look, especially Matilda, that says "Really? A cup of water at a time? You know that once you pour it that I start to freeze. Look, I'm shivering. Happy now? And now I'm pissed. I'm going to shake and disperse some of that elsewhere...like on your socks. Oh, and on THE REST OF ME THAT IS STILL DRY BECAUSE A CUP OF WATER WON'T DO IT." Because of this behavior, one of the requirements of the new shower head was that it had the sprayer attachment. Well, after searching tirelessly at Bed, Bath, and Beyond I spotted it. Sitting there, in all of it's giant awesome glory, THE shower head of my dreams. Is it pathetic that I dream of a shower head that has rainbows and sparkles coming out of it? Maybe. But is it any more pathetic than my old stupid shower head? Nope. There's something about standing in the shower now that makes me feel like I might actually make it in this world. And all it took, was a giant, magical, rainbow and sparkle shooting shower head. And now when the dogs threaten to start shaking water everywhere, especially if they start eyeing my socks (wet socks are the worst thing ever-period), I can just soak them with the sprayer and stare at them in wide-eyed, glorious ecstasy...because my shower head rocks!