Karma Always Bites You in the Ass

Im a procrastinator.

Just ask anyone. Ive been home from my holiday for almost a week, and it was only last night that I finally decided to unpack my suitcases (something that undoubtedly pisses him off, but oh well!)

So after I unpack, instead of taking my suitcases up to the attic (a task that requires far too much effort), I decide to try and stuff them under my bed.

I kneel on the floor and look under the bed. To my horror, somehow, my hair wrapped itself around the zipper on my suitcase.

While I was crouched pathetically on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to unravel my hair from the zipper, I recounted all the things that I had thought/did during the day that would warrant such punishment from the Karma Gods.

1: I had evil thoughts about an East Indian nurse that could barely speak English during my orientation for a new job.

2: The above mentioned East Indian nurse REFUSED to move her chair when I tried to squeeeeeeze past her. After doing this 2 or 3 times, I tried to give her chair a gentle "nudge" and whacked my knee on the side of her chair. Hurt like a bastard too.

3: Skipped out on my orientation to the computer system at 3PM. When I saw my manager in the hallway, I effortlessly lied to her and said that I was on my unit trying to locate my schedule.

4: I put a Dr. Pepper in my purse to bring to class. Halfway to the door, I felt something wet on my leg, only to notice that Dr. Pepper was dripping out of the bottom of my purse. Evidently, I was too fucking retarded to realize that the cap wasnt on right. Returned to my car, threw my soaking wet sunglasses case on the pavement in a fit of rage. Did the same thing with the bastardly Dr. Pepper bottle.

5: Texted multiple people about the computer class "instructor" who looks like a bloodhound, and doesnt know diddly-fuck about computers.

While recalling my many sins of the day, I started to thrash about on the floor, desperately wishing that my husband was around to help me. Then, panic set in. And it wasnt like it was just a few strands of hair wrapped around the zipper; it was a good sized chunk!

Finally, panic set in. After crawfishing my way across the floor (with my suitcase dragging along with me), I grabbed my hair at the roots, and gave it a good yank. This hurt more than whacking my knee on East Indian lady's chair.

I wish I could say that I actually learned a lesson from all of this, but that would be a lie. I would love to say that I have learned not to procrastinate, not to litter, to befriend all non-English speaking peers, too tell the truth, and not to compare people to bloodhounds.

In reality, all I really want to know is how in the HELL so much of my hair managed to wrap around the stupid zipper!!!!