Slice of Life Tuesday

An Ordinary Day

            This was one of those days when not a lot happens, but it feels like I’ve been very busy.

            First, I had to rebandage my husband’s leg (a minor problem, but a great inconvenience, and a little too gross to go into).

            Next I had a lot of to-dos: e-mails to arrange our annual family holiday dinner with nieces and nephews; e-mail to a friend I’ve been out of touch with; e-mail to set up my next women’s meeting. Then Facebook posts on news events (a baseball story, a story about a high school student in South Carolina body-slammed to the floor by a school police officer).

            Lunch.

            An appointment at the Apple Store to untangle my iPad, where it took 20 minutes to update the iOS.

            Shopped for dinner on my way home, but before I could start I needed to rebandage my husband’s leg – and when I wanted to take a photo of my husband’s leg to show his doctor, I realized I’d left my iPad in the store (I hope). Yes, it was there, lucky again (I’d lost the iPad, just weeks after getting it, in a park in Hawaii, and found it lying on the grass), and I rushed back home.

            Made honey-Dijon salmon from a Food Network recipe.

            And now settled in watching the first game of the World Series with my Mets against Kansas City. It’s tied 3-3 in the 7th inning right now. Anything could happen.

Update: Alas, after 5 hours, 9 minutes, the Mets lost. They came from behind, then went ahead after being tied. But after being tied again, they lost in the 14th inning, 5-4.

Fire!

Fire!

            Have you ever seen a lamp in your living room burst into flames? This happened to me last night, as I was about to turn out the lights and go to bed. There was a loud crack, the bulb burned out, and flames shot out of the switch.

            I was terrified. My first thought: I should swat at the flames to try and smother them, but the only thing in my hand was a newspaper. Some rational corner of my brain kept me from using it. I tried to think what else was in reach. But the flames died out. It was only about 10 seconds, but my heart was racing for some time afterwards.

            Even though the fire was out, I frantically pulled out the plug, and moved the lamp away from the outlet, as though mere propinquity could reignite the fire.

            And the smell. Whatever it was that burned at the base of the bulb and in the lamp’s switch smelled awful. I put the lamp out by my apartment building’s service elevator, but the smell that lingered in the apartment and the adrenaline of fear and action kept me awake for hours.

            Here’s the singed lamp. Looks harmless, doesn’t it.