After we moved into our new home three years ago, I developed a tea ritual: Almost every morning I take my mug outside to the front porch. Even in winter, I wrap up in a blanket and enjoy my tea outdoors. It’s a lovely interlude of peace and serenity… or it was, until last week.
In the summer, my ritual has an extra step: I have to put a hat on Hubby’s car. Not because the car or I care anything about fashion; it’s just that when the sun is at its summer height, it reflects annoyingly off the windshield and into my eyes. My wide-brimmed hat is always by the door, so that’s my default sunshade.
Last week I carried out my mug of tea and sat down in my favourite chair, only to receive a ‘glaring’ reminder that I’d forgotten to put the hat on the car. I hauled myself up again, grabbed the hat, and plopped it onto the windshield before returning to my chair.
And that’s when everything went to hell.
We still don’t have a proper front porch — it’s just a patch of gravel awaiting concrete. We’ve laid a small piece of plywood down so we don’t get our feet dirty, but only the front legs of the chairs are on the plywood. So they’re a tad unstable. As was I. (I realize the jury is still out on my mental stability; but I’m talking about physical stability here.)
My foot bobbled on the edge of the plywood and I sat down rather more quickly and inaccurately than I’d intended. My hand caught the edge of the little table that held my tea mug, and my butt hit the seat cushion at the same time as approximately a pint of hot tea.
Turns out that our chair cushions are waterproof enough to hold a pint of tea in a convenient butt-shaped puddle for exactly the amount of time it takes for two short messages to flash through my stunned synapses: “Shit, I spilled my tea” and “OH-SHIT-THAT’S-HOT!”
I launched out of the chair like it was an ejection seat, then immediately turned my ejected seat into the breeze in an attempt to cool the steaming fabric. Then, standing there plucking soggy pants away from my parboiled butt and eyeing the chair with its wet cushion and incriminating puddle below, I burst out laughing. Not for the first time, I gave thanks that we live out in the middle of nowhere and there were no witnesses.
I always drop a few ice cubes into my tea to bring it down to drinkable temperature, so the only damage was to my dignity. Fortunately I wasn’t over-endowed with dignity in the first place, so it’s not much of a loss.
But it’s gonna be a while before I can completely relax again with a mug of tea…
Book 16 update: Everything has been on hold while I’ve dealt with the time-consuming and annoying transfer of my paperback publishing to a new distributor. It’s (mostly) done now, so I’m looking forward to getting back to Book 16 this week!
Author Diane Henders 
It is sometimes funnier when we can laugh at ourselves and tell the story to other. Some of my best stories are my own mishaps. Great post.
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Thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it! I laugh at myself a lot — there’s usually something ridiculous going on in my life. 😉
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I have my own string of mishaps. Well im not alone 😃 Keep smiling.
Take care!
Regards,
Rupa.
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Thanks, Rupa! I’m glad we’re not alone in our mishaps. 🙂 You take care, too.
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😊
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After laughing….not until I knew you were actually ok, of course…I can so see any of us doing that, but you do have the advantage of not having an audience as a witness. I wouldn’t get away with that on our front porch…too many neighbors walking by in the morning hours. Thanks for the laugh unfortunately at your expense…:)
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It’s okay if the laughs are at my expense — I’ll just pretend that you’re laughing with me, not at me. Ahhh, my delusions. How I love them! 😉
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Always with you not at you!😎😎
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Thought you were going to drop a couple of ice cubes down the back of your pants. If I had done such a stunt and there were witnesses, I am sure The would have insisted on a mental and physical exam. Fortunately, there aren’t many witnesses nearby.
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Yep, that’s one of the great joys of living in the country: No witnesses. The ice cubes were in the kitchen and I was outdoors, so putting the problem on ice wasn’t an option; but fortunately the breeze was enough to do the trick! 🙂
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I have to say the comments and your replies are almost as entertaining as the post itself Diane. Not that I am laughing at your par boiled butt. Well maybe just a little. Be thankful for small mercies that you didn’t develop second degree burns and find yourself butt up in the ER explaining your tea butt shenanigans.
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I’m immensely thankful! Without the ice cubes, this would have been an entirely different story — one that I wouldn’t have enjoyed recounting at all. I’m very lucky!
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Stability is highly overrated. Life is much more interesting without it. Seems like you have an interesting life.
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Yes, indeed! I may be nuts, but I’m never bored. 😉
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Excellent observation. My own life can be infuriating, exhausting, taxing, or even riveting, consuming, and (sometimes) delightfully wacko. But boring? Oh, hell no.
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And that’s the way we like it! 😀
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Well, yes…and no. 😜
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LOL! True…
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Too funny! If only there would be a way to turn all these LOL-moments into memes! If only you did have neighbors and they’d film all your antics… 🙂
Good idea about the ice cubes in the hot tea. I only seem to have two “settings” for my tea: too hot as I want to drink it now. Mouth burned. And, too cold, as I forget about it since it’s too hot in the beginning. Nothing more than flavored water. If only we had a little freezer with ice cubes.
Is the transfer of your paperback publishing to a new distributor a result of Covid? Apparently, the entire market is in upheaval. Glad the most annoying part is (almost) over.
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I’ve never had ice cubes on demand before. When we bought our new fridge I figured the icemaker was a useless extra, but it’s turned out to be very handy indeed! (And now that it’s saved me from scalded nether regions, it’s become my favourite appliance.) 😉
The paperback transfer wasn’t a result of COVID, but COVID has certainly been hampering the process. It’s taking weeks for my original distributor to reply to a simple email — very frustrating! Soon I’ll be done… *takes deep breaths*
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Glad your butt wasn’t blistered. And that no one was watching. Years back I was flying to a conference in Calgary and dumped a cup of coffee with cream down the front of my white shirt and light blue slacks. No bad burns but no way to change. So I said screw that, bravely walked up to the hotel desk and registered like coffee stained clothes were all the rage. Dignity is vastly over rated.
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LOL! Yep, head held high. Not that you had any other option at the time…
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You – and Elephant’s Child – are making me really, really glad I don’t drink hot beverages 😀
Glad it wasn’t worse for you!
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Thanks; me, too! I was lucky it was only funny. 🙂
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I think you should kindly suggest hubby park his car in a different spot. and get a larger piece of plywood so your butt doesn’t wibble wobble and wind up in hot water. just sayin
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Hubby now parks his car in a different spot! 🙂 Next up, porch renovation…
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Hi Diane, I always enjoy your posts. You have a rare and irreverent sense of humor that I appreciate. I too am a lifelong tea drinker. As such I thought you might appreciate the following:
Keep smilin’,Uncle Dewey.P.S. I have an appreciation for things and people Canadian. I grew up in Michigan along the border. And for a number of years I was the chief executive of Marquette County (whose border with Canada was an imaginary line out in Lake Superior). Yes, I am one of those odd creatures called a “Yooper”.
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Hi Duane! I’m glad you got a chuckle. Unfortunately your photo didn’t come through, though. Sigh.
And hey, it’s nice to meet a fellow tea enthusiast, and a Yooper! I only found out what a Yooper was last year — there’s always something new to learn… 🙂
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Many years ago I had a waitress accidentally pour hot cider in my lap. I am not sure what she was doing but the glass she was aiming for was nowhere near my lap. Thankfully I had on a brand new pair of black jeans and I was able to stand up and get some of the cider off before it was all absorbed. I was not burned but my jeans and legs got rather sticky as the cider dried. It was a very long time before I went back to that restaurant.
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Yikes, I can imagine! I’m glad you weren’t burned. I think I’d hesitate to go back there, too, just in case I got the same waitress. But at least you didn’t do it to yourself the way I did! 😉
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😉
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Smiling.
And wincing in rueful memory. Decades ago while living in a communal setting I poured a just boiled cup of tea down my front. Despite the onlookers I peeled off my jeans immediately and ran for the cold water tap. Too late. I lost rather a lot of my pubic hair that morning and had some blisters in places blisters do not belong.
Glad you largely escaped.
Dignity and I don’t live in the same postcode. Never have, and probably never will.
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Ow, ow, ow, OW!!! Oh, yikes, I’m wincing in sheer sympathy. What a horrible experience! Even while I was laughing over my own mishap, there was a little voice in the back of my mind saying, “That could have been a whole lot worse.” After hearing exactly how bad it could have been, I’m breathing a sigh of retroactive relief.
And I’m glad I’m not the only one who can do without dignity. It seems like more of a burden than it’s worth. 😉
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Dignity, shmignity.
I am with you on the cost/benefit ration. But then I would my dignity challenged self would be.
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Thankfully I rarely burn anything attached to me unless I’m in the kitchen, cooking. I always say it’s not a successful meal unless I’ve burned myself somewhere. I’m smoking a pork shoulder tonight. (In a smoker. Not, you know, putting it in a pipe and smoking it. That would be wrong. And not very tasty.) Wish me luck, and burn ointment.
I’ve had the kids spill things every so often (maybe once every year or two), but thankfully it rarely reached my side of the table. But I was the one on cleanup duty, so I had to be in the midst of it nonetheless. I’m not one to cry over spilt milk; a spilled cocktail, however, would be a cry heard ’round the neighborhood. Or actually, that last one wasn’t a cry. More like creative profanities that burned the ears of little old ladies in a seven mile radius…
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A spilled cocktail?!? *clutches chest in anguish* Oh, say it ain’t so!
I’ve been extremely lucky in that I’ve never burned myself while cooking, even while cooking over a campfire (knock on wood). But I feel your pain nonetheless — I have a similar problem while sewing. I don’t think I’ve ever sewn ANYTHING without bleeding a bit. There’s a little of me in each and every sewing project…
Good luck with supper tonight! (And thanks for clarifying about smoking the pork shoulder. Otherwise, I might have requested photos for blackma… um… proof.) 😉
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Yes, I actually did spill a cocktail recently–a messy one at that, made with the good tequila, Grand Marnier, a perfectly good lime, and some blue agave syrup. Right after I mixed it. “Scorched earth” doesn’t begin to explain my outburst after that one.
But that wasn’t so bad as my recent car repair injury, so this is also an unexpected cautionary tale. No alcohol was involved. I was doing the steering rack and replacing a lot of front suspension components on my daughter’s car. I was reaching the steering rack bolts from above engine, laying on top of it to reach down between the engine and firewall. I have one of those big Milwaukee M18 1/2-inch drive impact wrenches, which I needed to break the bolts loose, along with some long extensions to reach down in there. Let’s just say this beast has more torque (up to 1,400 ft/lbs, or whatever the Canuck equivalent is) than any air-powered impact. I also try to wear nitrile gloves when I’m working–I often have to hop onto a computer to look up parts or specs while working. And eat. Without having to scrub each time.
This was totally unexpected by me, and wasn’t aware it could happen. I was trying to change extensions–pulling one off the impact, as it were. I bumped the trigger. The extension rotated slowly, just enough to grab the glove and pull two of my left fingers towards the extension hard until the glove snapped. It happened in a split second, shorter than the time it took me to realize what was happening.
One of those slow-motion moments.
Sprained ’em both; luckily they did not get dislocated. Two months on and they are still sore (part of it being the arthritis I disturbed), but at least I can bend them. The trigger does lock, but the locking pin is rather easy to push…so I am really careful around this beast now. But I still love that tool–it wasn’t cheap, but it has made my work so much easier now that I wont be without it. It saved me fighting at least a dozen large rusted bolts and numerous smaller ones.
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Oh, wow! I didn’t realize that could happen with an impact driver. I’ll have to go and have a closer look at our driver now. Your cautionary tale might have just saved my fingers!
Hubby and I still use ft/lbs — can’t teach old dogs new tricks. I assume the younger Canadian mechanics use newton-metres or whatever the metric equivalent is, but I don’t speak that language.
I usually don’t wear nitrile gloves unless I’m doing really messy stuff like oil changes because the gloves always seem to shred the instant I yank on a wrench, but now that shred-factor is looking like a safety feature. I’m glad to hear your fingers are slowly recovering, but yikes!
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I’m very careful with the impacts now (mainly the big one, but the smaller 3/8″ stubby impact I suppose could be just as much of a threat), but for the most part I still wear gloves when using them. The latest batch seem to hold up well, so unless I encounter any sharp(er) objects, they stay intact at least for the day if not longer. My problem is finding some that fit, and this set of XL gloves has a little extra room in them for a change (which might also have contributed to the impact-induced shredding, since the nitrile was easier to grab onto when it was loose). If I had used some old suede work gloves it wouldn’t have been an issue, but in our hot/humid weather here, my hands would have been roasted!
My torque wrenches are all numbered in both imperial and metric measurements but naturally I’m more familiar with the ft/lbs and in/lbs scales on both. At least the service manuals give both specs, so I don’t have to remember yet another conversion in my head!
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Ouch. Sorry to read about your (latest) mishap, Diane… just goes to show there are numerous dangers associated with a simple cup of tea. Although the fault was clearly the sun’s, and not the cuppa at all. 😉
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An excellent point! I could never blame my beloved tea. And as mishaps go, it was funny one with no lasting consequences, so it was good to have a laugh!
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Glad you aren’t going to suffer any scars from your tea. You will have to find a bigger bit of wood, or finally get round to doing the porch.
Life here is OK I finished the writing course I enjoyed it but also found it annoying that as we were constantly making new characters, even the last assignment was only 1000 words which isn’t a lot, and it appears that the other students expected us to submit a full short story rather than the start of a story. Still I have something I’m happy with and will turn into something I hope
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Right on! (Or maybe that should be ‘write on’.) I’m glad you got some good out of your class.
Those 1,000-word short stories are really challenging to write — it’s so hard to sketch out a character or two and develop a plot with so few words. Still, it’s a great exercise in editing, if nothing else. Have fun with your story!
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You actually inspired me, a little. Who knows one day I may even let people read a more polished and longer version
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Wow, that’s awesome! It’s always the polishing that takes the time… 😉
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Done that. But with much less grace and aplomb, I can absolutely guarantee. A hunnerd or two years ago, back when dinosaurs roamed the still-muddy earth, uh, no. It’s been sixty years, and the statute of limitations *still* hasn’t expired. So just forget I mentioned it. 🤪
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LOL! It’s forgotten… although not without a great deal of prurient curiosity. I’m just glad the tea wasn’t any hotter. That would have made it a much more *ahem* memorable experience.
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