Staplers are not our friends

If you are are a member of my family and witnessed the infamous day now entitled The Fish Hook Saga or a friend of mine who has given into my entreaties to "Please, please, please read my blog!," you are aware of the fact that, occasionally, my brain completely ceases all function and my body carries on and does whatever the heck it wants.

This is not something that started recently. It cannot be termed a senior moment (because, damn it, I'm only 37. I am not that old). This is something that has been happening since I was five. Yes. Five (5).

So Mom has brought me to the Babysitter. The Babysitter (I wish I remembered her name. I loved her. I hated her annoying son, though) is watching me alternately entertain myself by reading (as much as I'd love to say it was Shakespeare, I didn't actually pick him until I was 12) and watching televison. Probably Electric Company. Does anyone remember Electric Company? It was so cool. Okay, back on tangent. The Babysitter glances at me, I am engrossed in whatever I am doing and she says "Dana, I am going to go to the bathroom. Please stay where you are." I look at her blankly, the look that I normally get when interrupted from reading and agree.

Babysitter leaves the room. I hear the bathroom door shut. Suddenly, I am galvanized into action and decide to wander around the room. I vaguely remember looking at the bookshelf and staring at it in fascination. Then I found myself standing in front of Mr. Babysitter's desk. On his desk is a large stapler. Hmm. This stapler has a gap between stapler part A and stapler part B (no I don't know their names but please, who hasn't seen a stapler) that is the perfect size for me to put my five-year-old (right) thumb. I do so. Then, obviously possessed by demons, I reach out with my left hand and hit stapler part A. Which results in a sharp two-pronged pointy thing becoming imbedded in my thumb.

I don't remember screaming. I just remember Babysitter coming back into the room and asking me what I was doing. I turned to her, tears rolling down my face, and held my thumb out to her. "Oh My God!" She screams. "What were you thinking?"

"What were you thinking?" This question has followed me throughout my life. And the answer is, of course, "Well, duh. I wasn't."

I don't know what made me think of this. Oh, thumb emerged unscathed. In case you were wondering.

Previous comments:

1 Comments:
At 3:07 AM, brooksba said...
Dana,

Ah, the stapler story. I think this should end up in the "WWIT" category and under the sub-category: inanimate objects are not my friends.

This and the Fish Hook Saga. They need to be there. As you can see, I'm reading your old posts and leaving random comments. The question is, "Will you figure out which posts the comments are on?"

See you later tonight! I'm excited!

Beth