The Magic Word
When I was first injured back in the mid-2000s, I did not have enough finger dexterity to dial my cell phone well. Instead, I used a Motorola phone that allowed me to make calls by saying “abracadabra.” It was a lot like summoning Siri, only it kept mistakenly activating phone calls.
On therapy days, I made sure someone helped get my earbuds back in before I went outside to wait for a ride. One day, I ran into my physician on my way out and needed to give him an update. As I’m explaining, I hear my phone activate through my earbuds, “Calling (the name of an ex-boyfriend),” followed by ringing. My stomach dropped, and I froze for a minute, but I couldn’t get to my phone. I was relieved when he didn’t answer, but so embarrassed that my phone never hung up and I ended up leaving a message of everything my doctor said for someone I hadn’t spoken to in years. I cleaned out my contacts that night.
For my 27th birthday, my girlfriend and I took a road trip to Los Angeles. We had a fun day exploring and went out for celebratory drinks after dinner. Our departure was the next morning and I decided to take a shower before bed. A little buzzed, I got undressed, rolled into the shower and transferred onto the fold-down shower bench. The water was spraying at a weird angle, so I called my girlfriend to come help fix the setting to get more power on the handheld. She got it going and I pulled her over for an appreciative kiss. Let’s just say one thing led to another, and the shower got a little “steamy.” We were having a great time until the shower bench crashed down under us. We ended up in a slippery, soap-covered pile on the shower floor. More was bruised that night than just our egos.
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