El peligro: Resbaladizo
It's 8:00am on a Saturday and my doorbell rang. Nobody but strangers ring the doorbell. I'd been up about an hour but wasn't ready to see the world. In my sweats and raggedy t-shirt, I tentatively answered the door. An older man spoke to me in broken English. From what I surmised, he needed to go in my backyard to clip flowers for his church.
Seriously, this is what I thought he was saying to me.
I gestured for him to meet me on the side of the house so I could open the gate for him. I put on flip flops and locked the dog inside. The ground was still moist from the dense fog that blanketed us all night long. As I neared the gate, an arm's length from reaching it, I slipped on a pile of soggy leaves and fell flat on my ass.
I laughed a bit. I'm clumsy by nature and this isn't the first (or the last) time I have found myself crumpled on the ground in a compromising position. I righted myself, grabbing onto the garbage can, ass soaking wet with leaves stuck to the legs of my sweatpants, one knee covered in grime and a bit sore. I opened the gate to find his truck spewing exhaust. He was leaving! Did I just fall on my ass for no reason?
I called to him and he got out of the car, following me into the backyard. I asked him, "So, what is it you need?" and he responded while pointing, "I will clear the top of that tree." Oh man! This guy wants to perform paid labor. Jesus, Sizz, what the hell?! Why did you answer the door? And better yet, where in the hell did you get the idea of church? He clearly never said anything about a church.
I explain to him that I am only a tenant and that I would have to clear it with my landlord. I smiled and apologized and asked for his phone number. If only I was so bold with men I am attracted to. He ran back to his car and I slowly followed, picking my way gently over the slick ground. He handed me his card and I told him I would give it to my landlord, throwing in my minimal Spanish with "Gracias!" He looked relieved and confused asking, "Hablas Espanol?" I answered with a chuckle, "Un poquito."
I really need to learn Spanish.
6 comments:
Good story. You write well.
Oh sweet Marmalade. I'm sorry but I laughed my ass off reading about your fall. Sorry but man, I could visualize everything from the flip flops to the soggy ground and the slippery leaves..... I also need to learn Spanish to tell the fuckwits I can hear them speaking English in the background to their peeps when they tell me "No Engli here" ...at work!!!! Hang in there.
I realized life was a Laurel and Hardy routine a long time ago. I figure of the two, I'm Stanley.
Stan: That's the first mistake we've made since that fellow sold us the Brooklyn Bridge.
Oliver: Buying that bridge was no mistake. It will be worth a lot of money someday.
Um... one question. Why would you let a total stranger come pick your flowers?
Between your trip, and the older gentleman, yes you do need to learn spanish. At my house they pick the flowers without asking.
Oh, Siz... I think we were twins, separated at birth! I could SO see that happening... I know just enough Spanish to get myself in trouble... and am totally a born klutz. (Okay, maybe you didn't call yourself a born klutz...?)
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