Cobwebs

It's time to clean out the cobwebs.

The corners that are not often visited, the issues that don't require immediate attention, those things that are allowed to gather dust.

What's funny to me is that it can take less than a week for dust to settle on some things. Especially when I consider all the changes since my last post.

Adopted a dog.

Moved back to the USA.

Started working in Rehab again.

A dear friend's spouse passed away.

Met my youngest niece for the first time.

Surprised Mama for her 50th birthday.

Chopped off my hair.

Did a live reading.

And a bunch of other little things in between.

Why didn't I write? Because I didn't know where to start. Then I became overwhelmed because I build up in my head what a post "should" be, and that I have to write about all the little things.

But then I remembered, writers write. Every day. So all I needed to do was start to write.

My husband has been doing BEDIA (Blog Every Day In August). Today we picked up some cards from a local bookstore called a Chat Pack. This one is specifically geared toward stories. There are 156 prompts. My new goal? Write something about each of them.

And there is no better day to start than today. So with that, here goes!

Prompt: Share about forgetting something VERY important.

Oh this is so hard...because I am a forgetter! I forget things all the time! Just ask my husband. This week alone I forgot to turn the stove off and nearly caused us carbon monoxide poisoning, and left a loaf of bread baking in the oven for almost an hour. Obviously those aren't VERY important (well, the stove thing is), but you may be getting my drift. I am a forgetter.

If something isn't written down, or has an alarm set, it doesn't exist. I will have not even the vaguest of inklings that I've even forgotten something, even after someone has brought it up (not always, but it has happened more than once).

Anyway, to get down to telling a story I'll write the one that cropped up first in my overflowing box of "forgotten" memories.

I forgot a razor.

Sounds simple enough, right? Razors aren't that hard to come by. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal.

This razor was a very big deal.

It wasn't forged of titanium, or enchanted to never dull or rust. Just a standard, run-of-the-mill woman's razor (Sidebar: women's razors are a travesty. Much like women's socks. Compared to the "men's" version, they don't hold a candle, and are laughably inferior in quality and durability.).

Why, then, was this particular razor of such great importance?

It was my sister's razor. One she had left in our hometown. The one she asked me to bring to her new home. The one she was going to use the day before her wedding.

But again, it's just a razor.

Well, in Nephi, Utah at 10:30pm on a Thursday night nothing is open. Nor is anything open at 7:30am when you are departing for a neighboring small town. Not only that, but it was the night before the wedding. You know, the night that anything that can go wrong will go wrong. The night when people fight and everyone wonders if this whole event is even worth the stress when it could be as simple as a justice of a peace and a bride and groom.

Well, the straw that broke our stress-camel's back was a razor.

I used to think "if only I had brought the razor..." but time and experience has taught me that if it hadn't been the razor it would have been something else. We were a powder keg waiting to blow, and it just so happened to be a double bladed Venus that ignited a spark.