Tale of Idiocy Part II

A long, long, long, long, loooooooooong time ago in the magical city of Chicago, lived a chubby, newly engaged green-eyed Texas girl. Freshly betrothed to JerkFace, she had recently graduated with an MFA and was getting prepared for what could have been the most important interview of her short little life (In case you haven’t figured it out, the Chubster is me. I was trying to be clever and write in third person, but my clever has about run out, so I’m switching over to first person now. Or maybe I should try second person narrative? No, that would confuse both of us).

I had procured an interview at one of the more prestigious galleries in Chicago through much praying, a little schmoozing and just a tad of begging. My interview was at 10 AM on Tuesday morning. On Monday, I dropped JerkFace off at the airport for one of his incessant business trips and proceeded to go shopping for the perfect interview outfit. We’ve all had those days where you’re looking and looking and looking for a very important dress or whatever and cannot find anything. This was not one of those days. I walked into the boutique for the Pleasantly Plump and calling to me from the center display rack was the most perfect suit with matching shirt. But would it fit? Oh, it fit. Didn’t even need to be altered. Would they steam it for me? Gladly…while I waited. Perfection. This was going to be good.

Perfect outfit? Check.
Mapquest directions printed out? Check
Stalk the location the night before? Check
Set out pantyhose and shoes? Check
Go to bed at exactly the right time? Check
Set the alarm so I could get up three hours prior to the interview? Check
Excellent.

Tuesday morning
7:00 AM

The alarm goes off and I literally jump out of bed. No, seriously… I bounded from bed like my butt was on fire. I must have been excited because I’m not really a “bounding” kind of person, but nonetheless I did.

7:15 AM

Should probably eat a healthy breakfast. First, must look up definition of “healthy”. OH, yeah. Ok. I can do that. Fruit Loops have fruit in them, so I’m all set.

7:30 AM

I prepare to hop into the shower (yes, I hopped. I told you already that I was excited). I brush my teeth, I take my engagement ring off and put it in the soap dish so it doesn’t get all soap scummy and disrobe. I get in the shower and scrubbadub all the important bits. I lather up my hair, rinse, repeat. I condition previously mentioned hair and wait the recommended amount of time (something I never do). I rinse off and reach for my towel. There’s no towel. Uhhh… no robe, no towel, not even an extra washcloth. Ok. Ohhhhh, yes. I remember. JerkFace washed ALL the towels the night before he went out of town. No problem. I’ll just drip on down the hall and get my robe and a nicely fluffed towel.

7:50 AM

I grab my engagement ring, grasping it in my hand vs. putting it on so I don’t get goo on it when I put product in my hair. We had just moved into a beautifully renovated flat in a graystone near Wrigley Field. There were two flats per floor with the common wall being that connecting the bathrooms and laundry rooms. The flat had incredibly finished, original hardwood floors. I start the trek down hallway to the laundry room, dripping all the way and being careful not to slip. I open the door to the laundry room and smell a hint of bleach and fabric softener. This was going to be an amazing day. I brace my hand on the top of the dryer to open the somewhat finicky dryer door. As I finally wrestle the door open I hear the frightening tinkle of metal hitting concrete. I realize, a smidge too late, that I had dropped my engagement ring I had been clasping in my hot little hand. I could still hear it settling on the floor somewhere behind or under the dryer.

8:00 AM

No big deal. I’ll just pull the dryer out, get my ring and still have 30 minutes to do my hair, put on my makeup and get dressed. A little tight, but I can do it! I start to pull the dryer out and realize that it’s attached to the wall. I lean over the back of it best I can and confirm that yes, it is attached via the exhaust hose thingy. Perhaps I can scootch it over at an angle and get to the ring. I get the corner closest to the washing machine moved out about two feet from the wall, but it won’t budge after that. I muster all of my brilliance and decide that if I teeter on the edge of the washing machine, I can probably reach the ring. Am I a problem solver or what?

8:05 AM

As my short little chubby legs are, well, short and chubby, I get a chair to help facilitate my ascent onto the top of the washing machine. I finally manage to wiggle myself up with a new realization of how naked, damp flesh slides on metal. Pretty impressive. I slide over to the edge of the washing machine and start the quiet slide down the backside of the dryer. Hmm. It’s pretty tight back here. Let’s just get the ring and get on with it. Uh. I can’t really bend over. Uhhh. I’m kind of wedged back here. Hmm.

8:10 AM

Alright. Don’t panic. Just get back up on top of the washing machine and get the blasted ring later. It’s not like the cats are going to be able to get at it. Good plan. Uh. Hmm. I can’t get my leg high enough to give me leverage to pull myself up. Let’s see. I make a halfhearted attempt to pull myself up on top of the washing machine but only end up having massive flashbacks from elementary school when everyone was playing on the monkey bars except the smart, funny little fat chicklet. Let’s move on.

8:20 AM

This sucks.

8:30 AM

JerkFace gets back on….what? Friday?

8:45 AM

I’m probably going to miss my interview.

10:00 AM

I’m missing my interview

10:15 AM

Is that the phone ringing? Is that my answering machine picking up? Is that the gallery owner “just checking” on me? ::sigh::

11:30 AM

My cat waltzes into the laundry room to check on the status of my eyeballs. She drools on my head, smirks and runs off.

12:50 PM

I really need to pee.

1:15 PM

This sucks.

2:20 PM

::slam:: Wait. What was that? Was that my neighbor? The neighbor I begrudgingly gave a spare key to? Oh, God. Please let it be him! I start knocking on the wall behind me and yelling at the top of my lungs.

2:30 PM

My neighbor, Saber, knocks on the back door. I continue to scream. I hear the key in the lock and I hear the door creak open. “Green Eyed Girl??”

2:35 PM

Saber is standing in front of the dryer. He is laughing hysterically. I earnestly try to explain why this was not the best time for him to express his amusement. I start to cry. He laughs harder.

2:40 PM

Saber puts a towel on top of the dryer about three inches beyond my reach as he goes to root around for a wrench type of tool so I can loosen the vent hose and he can pull the dryer out a bit more. He’s still laughing hysterically.

2:45 PM

He turns around while I try to nakedly shimmy to the side so I can reach the dryer hose. I get the hose unhooked and Saber pulls the dryer out a bit more. He hands me a step stool, which gives me just enough height to gracefully ::cough cough:: climb on top of the washing machine, awkwardly covering myself the best I could with the towel.

2:50 PM

As Saber reconnects the dryer hose and pushes it back into place, I see my engagement ring glittering on the floor IN FRONT OF the dryer.

Tuesday, 13 years later, 10:45 PM

I can still hear Saber laughing.