donderdag 21 juni 2012


Every Wednesday the cleaning lady, who goes by the name Monica, comes to  my parents’ house. And while she cleans, usually from 2 to 6, I hide in the safety of my room not to resurface until she’s left. Last week, however, my parents went out shopping and asked me to unlock the back door so that Monica wouldn’t be locked out.              
             I really hadn’t anticipated any problems with that but as I went downstairs at 20 minutes to 2 to unlock the door, I heard a knock … Monica was early! Most normal people would probably just open the door, greet the woman and let her in, but I didn’t. Instead, I panicked, dropped to the floor in attempt to hide, and waited till she went away. As I lay on the floor several solutions passed through my mind, none of which were very helpful since they either involved the One Ring forged in Mordor (yes, I am a nerd, sue me), an invisibility cloak, supernatural powers or a teleportation device that could transport me from the living room to my bedroom. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a minute or two, I decided I only had two options. Either I would open the door and run the risk of embarrassing myself in front of Monica, or I would keep it closed and face the certainty that my dad would be furious at me.  With wobbly legs and a face like a tomato, I went towards the door and anxiously turned the key.
             Monica laughed at me, said how pleased she was to see me again and asked me how I was. I tried to anwer her, but I was suddenly unable to speak coherently or control the volume of my voice. First I only uttered some faint mumblings and then, when I tried to talk louder and more clearly, I was suddenly screaming at her: “HELLO!! I AM GOING UPSTAIRS!!”.  I then turned around and started speed walking towards the hallway. Feeling incredibly stupid and embarrassed about the whole situation, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings and ran into a cabinet. I turned around to see if Monica had heard and seen me crashing, and she naturally had. “Are you all right? Why don’t you go outside, it’s nice and sunny”, she said in a tone of voice that one might usually reserve for a mentally handicapped 5-year-old. I smiled at her, my red face burning like the sun, and walked away whilst trying to hide the pain in my hand from hitting the cabinet. Before I closed the door behind me I shouted “BYE!”, In a futile last attempt to repair the situation and act like a normal person. I was however  well aware that that ship had sailed (and crashed, and burned).

A few days later I told my therapist about the awkward situation and he asked me how I would handle a similar situation the next time it happened. The only logical answer I could think of was “I wouldn’t open the door”.  :s

2 opmerkingen:

  1. Het is natuurlijk heel naar voor jou, maar ik vind wel dat je het grappig beschrijft. Ik hoop dat je dat niet erg vindt.

    1. Nee, dat vind ik helemaal niet erg.
      Integendeel, het is net de bedoeling om er een beetje mee te lachen, om het wat te relativeren.
      Ja, het was een genante situatie, maar ik leef nog om het verder te vertellen...