Friday, November 5, 2010

Slippery Sinks

Watch your step when tiptoeing across a kitchen sink, you may slip and fall into the garbage disposal. I should have known this would happen. In my ridiculous desire to dance upon the lip of the kitchen sink with my long hair frolicking behind me, I slipped. I slipped and fell. Do you know how long it takes to fall down the slippery side of a sink? Do YOU? DO YOU?? I slipped. I did not mean to. I had every intention of keeping my precarious balance. Unfortunately, you know how sometimes there is a bit of residue from forgotten food or soap scum? Well, I was the one who discovered such a patch on the sink. I think it may have been a bit of milk left over from yesterday.

I slipped. I fell. Have you ever felt the cold metal of the kitchen sink? It’s cold. It’s hard. It’s unwelcoming. That’s where I fell. I fell into the depths of the sink. Through my momentum of the slipping, I proceeded all the way to the garbage disposal. Have you seen that thing? It’s like the teeth of some ominous aquatic animal. So while I’m standing on one of the blades realizing the predicament that I have found myself, a spaghetti noodle flops onto my foot. I shy away. It’s like a dead thing. It wiggles and a low rumble erupts from the darkness below. Frantically, my hand reaches for some useful nook to climb out of this angry abyss. Water like a torrent pounds at my fragile self. My happy dance across the lip of the sink has turned into a battle with death.

The teeth of this aquatic monster below spin in a terrifying and hypnotic circle. Somehow, I am suspended between the teeth of this creature. The water funneling from above pulls me down. My will to fight for survival lessens. My acceptance of the situation is impending. Death, he comes to me in the form of a gaping mouth. My hand slips and the powerful water carries me to the dark throat. Eyes clenched shut. Lip bleeding from gnawing on it. A soul tired. At the forceful hand of the water, I am shoved into the thrashing teeth of this uncaring monster.

Suddenly, the scream of metal upon metal shocks me out of my despair. My eyelids fling open in surprise as my overwhelmed body thuds painfully on shuddering blades. There it is – my savior. A huge spoon has forced its head into the mouth of the garbage disposal. The clanking and shuttering of the angry monster below is silenced. Quickly, I gather my water-logged and battered body in an attempt to stand. Staggering like a drunken person, I wrap myself around the neck of the spoon and hold onto this savior. I cling there shivering in horror. The spoon is wrenched out of the garbage disposal by a large hand and laid on the counter. I grip the spoon still.

Finally, after many minutes have passed, I begin to loosen my hold on this cut and scarred spoon. The marks of the teeth slash angrily across the face of the spoon. Looking sadly at the disfigurement of this savior, I see my face. I look like a drowned rat. Figures. Slowly, I re-acquaint myself with my body. It’s still there and I am all in one piece. I shake my head. Water droplets fling everywhere. Yet, there is an absence of something. A familiar weight is gone. With dread in my heart, my hand reaches up to my head. The laughing locks of my hair have vanished. Tears add to the wetness of my face. I survived. My hair did not. It’s shaggy and short.

…so the other day, I tiptoed across the kitchen sink and slipped. I mean, it’s a great excuse for a bad haircut.