The Afternoon tea club: 2014 #WATTYS2014

The Curse

It’s a well-known fact that I am incapable of walking on flat ground. Some people trip over stones and roots, shoelaces and cords. Me? I trip over nothing. No tripping hazards are needed; I fall over on flat ground.

I actually think that gravity has a personal vendetta against me. Usually it’s not much of a problem – the only problem is when I drag my friends with me – literally.

 So it was when I went to the city with Annie and Shilly the Slig (or just Shelly. Whatever) on the weekend.

 I actually think I cursed Annie’s household. It may have been only two days, but everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong. Murphy’s law or whatever. I even stopped a train. Sort of. More about that later.

 Saturday morning. Cold, windy and rainy. Sport was on. Don’t ask me why – the illogic of the school never fails to astound me. Not that I was complaining or anything. Despite popular belief, I actually quite enjoy sport. Yeah, I can’t catch and can’t play a match without tripping over at least twice, but I like netball. Ok? Deal with it.

It was our very last match of the season. We knew that there was no way we were going to get to the finals - so there was nothing to lose. We went all out.

And guess what? We won!

After all the celebrating was over, and after lamenting over the loss of such a glorious sport for another twelve months, we filed into Annie’s car and thus begun our weekend. Ah. We had no idea what we were in for.

The car ride was fairly uneventful – but then again, aren’t all car rides?

Arriving at Annie’s house, we marvelled at the amazingness of it – the pristine floor and almost disconcerting neatness, the wonderful view and the cat. Ah yes. The cat. There’s always a cat, isn’t there? 

We made cookies and peanut butter truffles, and would have baked more if a whole heap of people hadn’t inexplicably started arriving at Shelly’s house.

 The rest of the night passed in a blur of very good pizza, cute chic flicks and rolling on the floor, it was time to start going to bed. Ha. Bed. Who sleeps these days anyway?

I decided to take a shower, and that was when it all started to go wrong. Oh yes. The curse had begun. 

Only me. It could only ever happen to me.

So there I was, enjoying a nice, hot, long(ish) shower. Hair covered with soap suds from the (very) fancy and (very) tiny bottle of shampoo that Annie had left lying in a basket on the edge of the bath. 

When suddenly...

Crash! Bang! Clatter! Clang! Shatter! (Overuse of onomatopoeias, but don’t judge.)

I turned around and looked around, searching for what had caused the sound. It could only ever happen to me.

The soap dish. The freaking ceramic soap dish had fallen off the wall and shattered on the tiled floor, leaving a mess of ceramic shards on the wet floor.

Of course. How long had the soap dish been stuck on the wall in the shower? Years? Decades, maybe? But the ONE TIME I decide to take a shower, it falls off and breaks. About five minutes out of over 20 years. What are the chances?

I’m cursed. What did I tell you? 

So there I am, standing awkwardly in the shower, thinking that I should go tell someone but remembering that I’m still naked with soap suds in my hair. Not a nice situation, I tell you. But then again, it could only ever happen to me.

The next couple of minutes was very awkward, and I was riddled with guilt as I washed the shampoo out of my hair as quickly as I could and speed-dressed. All the while thinking, only me.

Annie’s whole family reassured me that it was perfectly alright, and that it was going to happen sooner or later (was it my imagination, or were they all giving me the evil-eye?). Of course it had to happen when I was taking the shower, though.

 It had only just begun.

The next morning, we took the train into the city to do some shopping. It was Shelly’s very first time on a train (Shelly’s voice: Second. It was my second time. Whatever. First sounds better) and she was wahing at ‘all those city contraptions’. Trains. Mixmasters. Jugs with lids. Pigeons. Trees. What is this madness??? 

We arrived in the city, at my very favourite place in the whole country. The city. Shopping. Music. Buskers. Excitement. People. Food. The amazing atmosphere. Think of it as a frog jumping out of a well. I live in a hole. The city amazes me.

 Shopping, glorious shopping. Amazing yum-cha and strange mango pudding that looked sort of gross but tasted amazing. A rickety Edwardian-style lift (like the one in the King’s Speech) that took longer than walking up the stairs (believe me, we tested it. Yup, we really went that far. Shelly walked up five flights of stairs and Annie and I went on the lift. Shelly was waiting at the bottom for about 5 minutes.)

Then the trains stopped running. I’m not sure what actually happened, something about railworks or something, but the trains stopped running. Yup, I stopped a train (trains, plural). Ok, maybe not. But I still think it was because of my curse. Trains don’t just stop running very often, but the one morning I’m in the city, it does.

So we get Annie’s mum to pick us up. But while we’re waiting for her to come, we decide to buy a frozen yoghurt. Fro yos. They’ve become a sort of tradition, now.

 And what do I do? I drop it. Not once, but twice. I’d eaten most of it already, but still. I fumble with the container, desperately trying to hold onto it. But it slips out of my hand, as if it’s a living entity. As if in slow motion, it falls to the floor, bouncing once. Twice. Then lies still on the ground. I lean over to pick it up. I have it in my hand. I stand upright. I fumble with it. It falls out of my hand again. It falls to the ground. Again.

 Shelly laughs at me, and picks it up, telling me that she’ll take it from here. Sure, Shelly. That’s a pretty good idea.

 Once we get back to Annie’s house, we finish making our peanut butter chocolate-covered truffles and cook some (very) fancy pasta with some (very) fancy white truffle sauce – mushrooms, I think. Those fancy city foods (never mind that the truffles were from the country. Shut up, Annie).

 We have dinner, and plan to leave. But oh no, it’s not over yet. There’s still more to come.

 Annie takes a bowl out of the cupboard, and drops it (I cursed her! I know I did!). It was a plastic bowl. It broke. A freaking plastic bowl. Plastic bowls are meant to be unbreakable (unbreakable vows…fangirl moment! Sorry, carry on.) Yet it shattered.

 Taking out the garbage, the garbage bag rips open inexplicably, spilling food scraps, kitchen towels and various unnameable substances all over the (very) fancy white rug. And coffee grounds. Oh, those coffee grounds. Coffee ground and white rugs do not mix.

 After Shelly had stopped wahing at the amazing foaminess of the carpet cleaner and had taken a photo of a slug (it’s a namekuji!!!), we finally leave, 9 minutes after schedule (9 whole minutes! Oh, the horror!)

 On the way back, we sing ABBA and the Beatles songs at the top of our lungs. I think we nearly gave Annie’s mum a nervous breakdown.

 After all that, we finally arrive home (to our hole and prison – I kid, I kid!) and it was the end of all that. The curse is over. Or is it?

 To be continued…