A Misspent Saturday Night

I think there is something wrong with me. I never give up. I am like the head on the ground in Monty Python and the Holy Grail who yells at the knight who has beheaded him, “Come back and fight like a man!”

Saturday night I discovered my coral beaded choker had my favorite gold necklace in a stranglehold. I was thrilled to find the misplaced piece of jewelry and horrified at how their fine chains had knotted together.

At around 8:00 PM, I began picking the delicate balls of gold apart, believing it would only take a few minutes. The plan was to watch a movie on Pay-Per-View. As the minutes turned into hours, my husband watched Papillon while I continued to struggle. By the way, that soundtrack is the most repetitive and irritating ever!

By 10:45, I was still untangling the gold mess when my husband announced that he would finish watching Saturday Night Live up in our bedroom.

At 12:10, I finally yelled, “Screw you, stupid chains! I will have you melted down instead. I wasted my whole Saturday night because of you two!” My index finger and thumb were raw and I wondered if there was any benefit from absorbing gold through the skin. “It’s probably toxic,” I thought.

Sunday morning, I woke with a pang remembering my misspent Saturday night. After walking into the kitchen, I glared at the fighting chains and sat down for one last try. In less than 15 minutes, they slid apart. “Woohoo!” The gold one was broken in a couple of places. I could have cut it, saving some time. Oh well.

How much time did that take me? Close to four and a half hours! That is ridiculous! And yet I saved one of the chains, so I guess it was worth it. But who else would do that? I never give up even when I should.

Persistence and determination are great qualities to have if you are a writer like me, but not so much in other occupations.

It occurred to me that I would make a terrible emergency room doctor. If a patient flat-lined, it might take days before I would “call it” and check for the time of death.

Forget about extreme fishing like Deadliest Catch since I would be the one saying, “The hurricane is really not that bad. 5 more minutes; just 5 more minutes…”

No one would ever see me again if I became a deep-sea treasure hunter. I would believe the amazing cache would be found the next time I dive – right after lunch, tomorrow, or the next day…

After writing this, I ate dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Look at what my fortune said. Can you believe it? What the heck does it mean?

As a writer, I will continue to forge “ahead,” never give up, and pray that I am not drop-kicked!

When do you cut your losses?

Photos by Susie Lindau