Clumsy

So, I had a clumsy week.

It started on Saturday, when I went to give blood at the Church Blood Drive (yay for blood...donations). After bruising up 2 arms, they informed me that my blood was not flowing well enough from one arm, and that they burst the vein in the other. I left looking like a heroin addict. Oh well, c'est la vie.

Monday I went to FHE (you eat dinner and hang out with other singles) and somebody decided that we should all play Red Rover. The first time somebody ran into me I felt like he broke my wrist. Sadder still, we lost. By the time I got home my wrist was still hurting--badly. I iced it really well, but the bruise was growing and I couldn't even touch the top of my right hand. I had to go to work the next day and type for 8 hours. After about 20 minutes I went next door to the Chiropractor's office and asked if they had any wrist braces in stock. When they asked what happened, I told them I sprained it playing Red Rover. After the look on their faces, I decided to tell everybody else that it happened "playing sports."


I spent the whole week typing because I was working on a very large, time sensitive project at work. I was so proud of myself because I was getting it done so fast and everyone was so amazed. Pride really must go before the fall, because on Thursday morning, just as I finished the 1st part (of a 3 part project) and was getting ready to send it off, I accidentally deleted it. There were 2 copies, I only thought I was deleting 1, yada yada. In fact, I was so confident that I didn't even mind when a warning bubble came up saying "Are you sure you want to delete? This action cannot be undone." I called my brother, frantic, to ask how to undo what I just did. All he could think of doing was to force a shutdown on the process, as that usually recovers whatever you've just done. That brought up about 1/5 of the information, but the rest (and my cross references) were gone. So I checked the online help and found out that if I hadn't shut the program, I would have been able to recover my missing information. Grrrr.....


Friday was a pretty annoying day, what with my redo project, getting up butt early to get lasered, and just feeling gross but I was actually looking forward to that night. I had a gold party to do, which means I take all my stuff and go into people's homes to buy their friend's stuff, more or less like a tupperware party. I always like doing an event for this client because a) she's great b) her friends are nice and c) she makes the most amazing food. I decided that I had to eat before I got there though, because every time I'm surrounded by these Miss America Businesswomen who "gorge themselves" on 2 whole bites of food!, whilst I'm starving, shoving in as much as I can before I have to get back to work. I promised myself that I would only eat the deserts, because nobody else touches them and she always has these tiny eclairs that I love. When I got there (post Wendy's drive thru) she had a full spread...excepting desert. So sad, especially since I ended up eating the entire bowl of artichoke dip by myself anyways. The whole night passed with more than half of her RSVP's cancelling. In fact, we made less than 1/37th than we did at the last Gold Party. It didn't bother me that much since I don't get commission, but the client was fuming. And apologizing until I was out of sight.


Now, I really had to pee by the end of the night, but 1) I didn't want to leave all my equipment just sitting around and 2) her bathroom looked too fancy to actually use. I figured it wouldn't be long before I was home anyway. The road just before the highway looked curiously packed but I got in line anyway, writing it off as Friday night congestion. It was actually cop congestion! I have no idea why they were controlling traffic but they kept the line for turning right onto the highway stopped for several, several long minutes.


Once I got on the highway though, everything clipped along at a nice pace. In fact, I was rolling along, singing a little when I approached an yellow light. It was only a few feet away and I, forgetting that all yellow lights are not as long as they are in Utah, kept going. I realized I had a problem when I didn't reach the intersection when I thought I should've. But, by then I was too late, and had already made my decision so I kept going. I noticed the light turning red about the time I hit the crosswalk bar, but again, I had thought that the light would've been longer. I was musing on how lucky I was that no cop was around when the lights started flashing.


This man deserves his own paragraph. I have to say, I've been pulled over 3 times before--and once for nearly killing a motorcycle cop by forcing him into oncoming traffic--but never have I had an officer be as mean to me as this guy. He didn't get out of his car for a good 5 minutes. When he did, he moseyed up, and searched every inch of my car through the window with his flashlight. When he finally got around to talking to me I opened with an apology. I've learned that it usually works best to admit it upfront.
"License and registration." 
"I'm so sorry. The intersection looked much closer than it was, and I didn't think that the light would turn so quickly. Again, I'm really sorry." 
"You just blew through that red light. It was red way before you reached it! I was at that intersection! I was about to pull out!" 
[But you obviously hadn't made a move on it yet.]  "I am sorry. The light switched before I expected it to." 
"You blew through it! Blew through it." 
"Here's the license and...is this my registration?"


He walked, slightly faster, back to his car. I then endured 15-20 minutes of waiting for him to return. I'll admit, I knew that red lights were worse than speeding, but I didn't know how much worse. My mind was swirling with "What if I have to go to court?" and "How much of fine that I can't afford will it be?" Finally, FINALLY, he came back. 
First words: "Here's your ticket ma'am. You won't have to go to court." 
Whew! 
"You can pay it here, here or here..."
He tilted the paper toward me and I felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on my head. $1,910. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. Before he had to pull a respirator and emotionlessly resuscitate me I realized that it actually said $191.00. Naturally, I started to blabber about how relieved I was and how I almost cried, when I saw him motion to his partner (who looked just like Buzz from Psych, minus the smile). 
"What's the scale for ma'am?!" 
"Oh, for work." 
"Yeah, what kind of work do you do, ma'am?!" 
"I buy gold and silver jewelry." 
Long look. 
"[Meekly] Do you want me to open the bag?" 
"Yeah, open the bag. Show us what's inside." 
His partner, by this time, was standing outside my passenger window with his flashlight. So I narrated as I pulled out the "gold" and "silver". I was trying to think of what else would help--like maybe my transaction forms, he declared "That's enough. How long have you lived here?" 
"Just a couple of months."
"[Looking almost disappointed] Well, still, you only have 60 days to get your registration changed over. You need to do that immediately.  And slow down. You were blowing by." 
"I was going 40." 
"Yeah, and it's a 35 zone. Slow down and get your registration changed!"


Driving home was awful. Maybe if I wasn't so chastised already for the whole law breaking thing, I would've found getting mistaken for a drug dealer much less traumatic. I knew it would be funny someday. I also knew that today was not that day. I realized how lucky I was not to have my car searched since I was carrying some types of self defense tools that would look bad for a suspected drug dealer, but that just made it worse. The only redeeming quality (and it was a huge one) was that my mother randomly sent me a card that day. It was beautiful and bright and I love motherly intuition. I also started to realize that the officer could have made a lot more trouble for me if he had wanted to. I'm grateful he let it slide at that.


I'll admit, it is funny now. It was not so funny when I started receiving what has become a constant strain of letters--"Dear Ticker Holder, The state wants YOU to become a safe driver. Go to traffic school!" or more plentifully "Dear Ms., So sorry to hear about your Failure to Stop At a Red Light traffic violation. My firm would be happy to..." I hate most how they spell it out like that. I already know what I did!


But all in all, it's really not so bad. And while this week has had its ups and downs, it's really much better. I doubt I'll ever stop being clumsy, but let's hope that it goes back to being limited to bumps and bruises.