Today I received a compliment from a co-worker.
She said something kind, like that I was “on it,” hinting that I seem like a pretty together person for the stuff I’m doing to highlight sky-high drug costs.
And I said, “Thanks!”
I failed to mention that if you zoom out from the social media posts and curated family photos, – you *really* need only peel back a *tiny *corner of that veneer – you might see the maggots that hatched in this together person’s minivan.
They weren’t even big enough to be maggots. They were like tiny menacing maggot cousins!
Let me set the scene!
The carpet itself is balding in spots because one ill-fated day three years ago I decided to rescue a goose that got hit by a car.
Yes, I picked up a dazed goose and placed him tenderly in the back of my minivan in the middle of a run. I mean, what could go wrong, #amiright?
Half-way to the Humane Society the thing came to, honked its displeasure, flapped its wings and shat everywhere.
I almost died. Or not, but it could have poked my eyes out!
We removed the goose poo and poured cleaning solution on the goose poo pellet stains. That managed to bleach and disintegrate the carpet. No good deed goes unpunished. That’s the lesson I learned. That and geese are scary as hell. Did you know they hiss? Do you even understand how large powerful those wings are?
Besides goose waste, we’ve fed the carpet with sloshed coffee and milk, popsicle sticks, newspapers and a 150-day-old “Frosted Mini-Spooners” spill – the mini spooners, I mention, because that’s the preferred budget-friendly fortified generic version of whatever the brand name is. I have forgotten…
The smell came first. We ignored it for 94.987 days. Then there was summer heat. It baked the that sour stench right outta there! I became blind to the layer of detritus gathering on the ground. The Jackson Pollack-esque splash of chocolate milk on the window? Was it chocolate milk or is Eli living a double life as a Muppets slasher? (FYI: chocolate milk runs through their veins). Either way it became part of the landscape.
I moved a shirt last week, discovered the maggot cousins and screamed.
Unwilling to roll up in the parent drop-off line with maggots spilling onto the reasonable flats of drop-off/pick-up line volunteers, I resisted the urge to torch the entire vehicle and instead deep cleaned it.
It’s dangerous to feel together. Once I felt together after arriving at work in a fashionable scarf. As I flung it off with a confident flourish, a piece of deli turkey flew out and almost slapped a co-worker in the face.
Rest assured, public, if it looks together somewhere, it’s falling apart somewhere else.
But that was a very nice thing to say, kind co-worker (Hi Jackiiiiie!)
It was a very nice thing. Kind words are like the forgotten $20 bill you found in your pocket: they never never come at a bad time.