One of 'those' days

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One of 'those' days

By S.K. Bardwell
Posted Monday, October 26, 2009

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Every so often I have a “stupid day” – one of those days when the simplest task becomes overwhelmingly difficult. Some stupid days are worse than others, but all are marked by a few common elements:

An inability to recall words, string them together, or get them right: Generally when this happens, I stutter or preface sentences with, “Uhh – “ but on stupid days I’m known to spout spoonerisms. Some of my best are “treck wruck” and “coffle tabee,” but the best one I’ve heard recently was uttered by a character in a novel, who suggested a flower arrangement be placed on a “turdy stable.”

An inability to hold onto things: My mother sometimes referred to this as “dropsy,” which is a better name for this than for the edema it actually refers to. On “stupid days” things like cups, utensils, toothbrushes and keys all seem to have been greased overnight. Sometimes they seem to actually writhe about in your hands, until you drop them. Once I recognize that I’m having a “stupid day,” I avoid handling anything I particularly like. Especially the grandboy.

An inability to find things: Most of us can lose our keys on any old day. On a “stupid day,” I can lose the car.

An inability to remember things: Walking into another room and not remembering what I went there for is fairly common. On a “stupid day” I may find myself hesitating at red lights, unable to decide whether to turn or go straight because I can’t remember where I was headed – that is, if I was able to find the car, and the keys.

Hiccups: I have no idea why.

“Stupid days” can be brought on by exhaustion, and often are. The most recent one I suffered was brought on by acetone, which I used to strip the adhesive off the wood floors after heating and pulling up the old tile.

It wasn’t a championship “stupid day,” but it was damned uncomfortable a few times. I went to the grocery, forgot to take either the shopping list or the cell phone, and wandered about 30 miles, criss-crossing the length and breadth of the place as I recalled various items. I might as well have been trying to remember Latin, which I never learned.

The checkout clerk at the grocery was a woman I’ve known for years. I was barely able to make conversation. I think I caused my face to smile, but I may have only bared my teeth at her. She asked about one of our sons and I only barely stopped myself from boasting that Ian is almost potty-trained.

Ian, of course, is the grandboy. Our sons, now 27 and 22, have been potty-trained for some years. Thankfully, I was able to remember how to say, “He’s fine,” and to close my mouth.

When I finally rolled a cart outside full of stuff I thought we needed, I experienced true panic. The car simply wasn’t in the parking lot. I looked everywhere. I asked myself a hundred times, “Am I just too stupid to find it?” and answered myself, “No, it really isn’t here.”

Eventually I spotted a car that looked sort of familiar, and recalled I had taken son Sean’s bright-yellow Mazda to the store. I was vastly pleased that I made this discovery before I called the police and reported the Taurus stolen.

It lasted the whole day, pretty much. I did manage to produce edible food that evening, and didn’t destroy anything very valuable. But I got pretty cranky, especially after the hiccups started.

It made me remember some of the other masterpieces I have produced on “stupid days.” I can’t remember them all, and there are some I will never share, but some I do remember include:

- Sucking at least five dollars in change and the keys to the Chronicle pressroom from the console of my truck with the super-powered vacuum at the carwash.

- Seeing that a bowl Micheal had placed under a disconnected drainpipe he was working on was nearly full, I emptied it into the disconnected sink over his head.

- Enthusiastically reducing my dishwashing sponge to tiny pink slivers while scrubbing a cheese grater.

- Curling one leg under me and sitting on my foot as short people are prone to do in chairs that are too big for them, I glued my shoe to the crotch of my pants with the wad of chewing gum I had stepped in.

- The first pager I got that could be set on “vibrate” was so set before I began a very important question-and-answer session with a very important man. When it vibrated in the middle of the interview, I exclaimed, leaped up and began slapping my hip.