Let’s talk about this past week:
It all started when I went to bed.
Here’s a fun fact for you (fun fact for some, possible TMI for others): I don’t like to wear pants/bottoms to bed. They’re constricting. They rub against the sheets and keep your bum from the warm, comfy goodness. I like to be free when I sleep. So I don’t wear pants.
(Here’s where we get personal.)
After reading an article about proper feminine hygiene, I learned that some doctors, mothers, and other young ladies don’t wear underpants to bed because it allows certain areas to “breathe,” so to speak, which is better for…certain areas because they’re covered by fabric all day. Not wearing underwear to bed allows for certain areas to be free from foreign fabrics.
So…ever the mature young lady…sometimes…I don’t wear underpants to bed. There. I said it. IT’S COMPLETELY NORMAL. But I digress…
It all started when I went to bed one Sunday night with a nice glass of red wine to help settle me in for sleep (and prepare me for the Monday morning to follow). I laid on my bed, crawled under the covers, and grabbed my glass of wine, placing it on the bed next to my computer in a place where it stood by itself as I began scrolling through various hilarious posts on tumblr. A couple of minutes in, I shift to get more comfortable…and my precious glass of wine spills.
On my precious laptop.
It shorts, I get a miniature strobe light show from the screen, and then it goes dead. I freeze, staring at my laptop, my whole life, as it sits blank in front of me, only to be comforted by my boyfriend’s soothing words: “Oh man! That’s not good, dude.”
He jumps up, grabs the laptop, and runs to my bathroom, desperately trying to drain it of the fermented grape juice I forced down its gullet. I lay on my bed, not moving.
Paralyzed.
Helpless.
Half-naked.
My wordsmith boyfriend starts comforting me from the bathroom. A computer networking major, he starts spouting solutions and possible options for what just happened. I look at him, silent. I can’t even hear anything he’s saying. I stare as he speaks and think, “He’s got undies on. He’s so prepared. He’s clearly the smart one.“ I start to slip into one of my “It’s all my fault/I’m the stupidest person on earth/Stupidest isn’t a word/I’m an idiot” phases. After a lot of coaxing and cooing that it isn’t my fault, Captain Underpants gets me cleaned up and puts me to bed. He promises to fix everything.
The next few days I spend a lot more time in the school library, using and cursing their computers while my superhero boyfriend fixes my laptop. With all that quiet time to myself, diligently working at a cubicle (not going on Facebook or tumblr just in case the whole monitoring-what-youre-doing-on-our-computers thing is real) then walking back to my apartment alone later on, laying in bed before finding sleep with no dimly-lit screen to watch me, I had time to reflect. And as ridiculous as it may sound, I found a message in this whole mess. Maybe it was just the internet-deprivation getting to me but I found it all a beautiful lesson wrapped in a wine doused box:
Sometimes life throws you for a loop when you least expect it. When your guard is down (or pants are down) – BAM – there’s life ready to smack you in the face (or on the bottom). But that stuff’s going to happen. To us all. But you can’t go around blaming yourself for it. Everything isn’t your fault. Bad things do happen to good people, some more than it should. But you’re not an idiot. You’re not less than. You’re not the worst person on earth – you’re human. And not even in the sense that you’re human and you’ll make mistakes, but in the sense that you’re human and you’re experiencing life. And part of that experience is having shitty stuff happen to you. But you find the people who demand to be there for you, lean on them, take time to breathe, and you’ll make it through. So uncover your butt. Don’t be scared. Drink wine at your computer (it makes your keyboard smell like happiness). Make less-than-the-best-decisions. Live a little. It won’t kill you.
Life’s going to spank you at some point.
Might as well be comfortable until it does.
Oh you changed the colors? You think I wouldn’t notice bitch? 
WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS??? 
Mom & Dad will NEVER understand. 
adventures in adulting* 