There are times in everyone's lives when they regret moments that they acted out in anger, said words that were hurtful, or behaved impulsively. Today, I regretted throwing a pineapple at my husband. Well, half of a pineapple to be exact.
The morning started out normal enough. And then I stepped out of bed. From that point on, it was disaster at every turn. From finding termites in the house, to discovering unapproved purchases on my bank statement, to not having enough money to pay this month's bills, missing my friends, (missing chocolate), and feeling like a big, fat, failure in general.... yeah, it wasn't a great morning! To make matters worse, (because I hadn't shed enough tears by 11am as it was?) my mother informed me that my grandpa was in intensive care with a head injury after a fall. As my anxiety rose to shaky levels, panic taking over my entire being, I had no idea how I was going to take care of all of these dilemmas that seemed to be vying for my undivided attention (all before I had to leave for work). My brain came up with a solution. Eat.
Somehow, in my crazed state, I was able to remember my diet and I began slicing fruit (quite the feat when one's hands are shaking like an addict going through withdrawals). In an attempt to put the milk jug away, I realized that the pineapple we were keeping in the fridge had slid over to where the milk had been. And this is where things got a little hazy (perhaps pleading temporary insanity will help my case?). I gently (or not so gently) shoved the pineapply back over and went to put the milk in it's place... but the pineapple beat me to the punch and slid back over. With a huff, I attempted the same task. In defiance, that God-forsaken pineapple moved AGAIN. Before my mind had a chance to register what was taking place, I was reaching for the pokey fruit and hurling it across the room (problem solved). Sadly, that's exactly where my unsuspecting husband was seated.
Now, I've never thrown a pineapple at someone before, but I'm pretty sure it would hurt. In fact, I've never thrown fruit of any kind at another person (that I can recall), but if I were to do it, I would think an apple or mango would be my choice (just for ease-of-hurl to damage-upon-impact ratio). Not a pineapple. But that's neither here nor there. I quickly apologized to my husband, who was doing everything he could to give me love and affection during my mental breakdown. He didn't deserve to be hit with fruit... at least not today. But I'm pretty sure that it's safe to say that, although he loves me and understands my morning crisis, he's NEVER going to let me live down the day that I clocked him with a pineapple.
The morning started out normal enough. And then I stepped out of bed. From that point on, it was disaster at every turn. From finding termites in the house, to discovering unapproved purchases on my bank statement, to not having enough money to pay this month's bills, missing my friends, (missing chocolate), and feeling like a big, fat, failure in general.... yeah, it wasn't a great morning! To make matters worse, (because I hadn't shed enough tears by 11am as it was?) my mother informed me that my grandpa was in intensive care with a head injury after a fall. As my anxiety rose to shaky levels, panic taking over my entire being, I had no idea how I was going to take care of all of these dilemmas that seemed to be vying for my undivided attention (all before I had to leave for work). My brain came up with a solution. Eat.
Somehow, in my crazed state, I was able to remember my diet and I began slicing fruit (quite the feat when one's hands are shaking like an addict going through withdrawals). In an attempt to put the milk jug away, I realized that the pineapple we were keeping in the fridge had slid over to where the milk had been. And this is where things got a little hazy (perhaps pleading temporary insanity will help my case?). I gently (or not so gently) shoved the pineapply back over and went to put the milk in it's place... but the pineapple beat me to the punch and slid back over. With a huff, I attempted the same task. In defiance, that God-forsaken pineapple moved AGAIN. Before my mind had a chance to register what was taking place, I was reaching for the pokey fruit and hurling it across the room (problem solved). Sadly, that's exactly where my unsuspecting husband was seated.
Now, I've never thrown a pineapple at someone before, but I'm pretty sure it would hurt. In fact, I've never thrown fruit of any kind at another person (that I can recall), but if I were to do it, I would think an apple or mango would be my choice (just for ease-of-hurl to damage-upon-impact ratio). Not a pineapple. But that's neither here nor there. I quickly apologized to my husband, who was doing everything he could to give me love and affection during my mental breakdown. He didn't deserve to be hit with fruit... at least not today. But I'm pretty sure that it's safe to say that, although he loves me and understands my morning crisis, he's NEVER going to let me live down the day that I clocked him with a pineapple.