where the writers are
Tight Trunks

Some days are good days and others are "fill that stupid water thing I'm supposed to use for hiking up with premium vodka and strap it to me" days.

I can usually feel a bad day coming on.  It's been a crappy week or I know things are brewing.  I follow the monthly horoscope, I get the scoop on the golden trines and the stormy solar system.   I understand those bad days.  They are the yin or the yang and I'm good at weathering them for the most part.  It's the out of the blue, things are going along fine, but all of a sudden I look around and it appears all things have turned to shit days.  Those days, the surprise ones, I hate those days.

Yes, I know "hate" is a strong word and I'll be sure to meditate and self correct on that later.

A few months ago I was putsing around the house, cleaning out cabinets, doing laundry, collecting things for donation.  I was a busy bee and in a great mood.  James Taylor, bare feet, peanut butter pretzel mood.  I stopped to take a break and bring my donate up to the Salvation Army box near the Circle K.  I decided I would get a tea on the way home.

I loaded the boxes and bags into my car and without warning, in a way I would never be able to recreate, I managed to slam the trunk of my car on my head.  It was a full skull and face metal smash.  I yelled four, five, seven and eight letter words, held my head, rubbed my head and danced around my driveway.  I was in shock and pain and it came out of nowhere.

Deep breaths later, I managed to close the stupid trunk, the right way this time, and went inside.  My head hurt, James Taylor in Mexico suddenly annoyed me and I no longer wanted a tea.  Just like that.

Out of the blue bad days are like the trunk face slam.  I don't know where they come from, but they give me a headache and I don't like them.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  Close Up.

www.fromthelaundryroom.com