Before I get into explaining King Anti-Midas, let me ask you one question:
Are you familiar with the famous Shakespearean tragedy Hamlet?
If not, that’s okay, as “there’s something rotten in the state of Denmark.” (In case you missed it that was a literary reference to Hamlet.) Regardless of the present state of this northern European nation, Hamlet provides a wonderful example of a concept known as comic relief. A brilliant way to “break up” the sometimes-overbearing nature of a tragedy, comic relief provides an “oasis” of humor to the plot of a play. (Or to the nature of a blog.) I’ve always had an appreciation for oases, so this blog does just that. Get ready, ladies and gentlemen, as I’m about to bear my soul.
Here’s the deal. Now, get ready, as I’m about to throw another literary reference your way. I’m like King Midas, except that everything I touch (at least recently) does not turn into gold. Oh, no, no, no: it turns into "broken." (Yes, I am aware that that is incorrect grammar.)
So, if you think about it, I guess that makes me like King Anti-Midas, right? Well, you be the judge.
Rewind to Thursday, January 19th. I meander over to my lovely refrigerator to open up a nice jar of pumpkin butter, which tastes lovely on a piece of bread. As I open the fridge, the pumpkin butter, which was apparently perched precariously on the top shelf, plummets to the floor below. It shatters. Boom. Pumpkin butter is everywhere. So, there I am, kneeling low to the ground, wiping up my dignity along with the delicious spread that stared at me tauntingly on the floor.
Okay, a day passes and it is now Friday, January 20th. Before I continue, you must understand that I store food in my room that I don’t use “too” often in a trunk adjacent to the couch. This includes, or rather included, my strawberry syrup. That evening, I opened up the trunk to organize for fun (yes, I am a nerd) with the goal of creating a more proficient special layout. I pick up the strawberry syrup and, apparently, glass bottles are much slicker than they used to be. It slips out of my hand, hitting another glass jar (which I use, or rather, used) to store grains—they both shatter. Syrup flies everywhere, coating the interior of my trunk (and the numerous other food products within) and dousing the floor in front of my wardrobe. Oh, you should have seen my face. It was full of excitement and joy at the prospect of doing even more useless cleaning.
On a related note, did you know that cleaning thick, sticky, molasses-y syrup out of a carpeted floor is nearly impossible? Yeah, I didn’t, but now I do. (I suppose I should mention that it is do-able, but requires everything just short of a miracle.)
Anyways, I was actually relieved afterwards. You see, “bad things always come in threes,” or so I’ve heard. Well, I’d already broken three things and, obviously, this phase had passed. Because, after all, I’d broken three things… right?
So another day passes. It’s now Saturday. I’m in Chloé’s kitchen cooking couscous, the food so nice they named it twice! (If you are unaware, couscous is a small, spherical type of pasta. It’s really, really good.) I’d brought a large glass bottle (filled with Brita-filtered water) to cook with and, after I emptied its contents into the pot, I set it on the counter. Big mistake. As I reach over to the sink, BANG. BANG BANG BANG SHATTER SHATTER. The glass bottle falls, exploding upon contact with the floor. I was mortified. Logically, I proceeded to clean up its contents. Kelsey and Kailey, who were in the room at the time, graciously volunteered to help. (By the way, they are both amazing people and I love both of them for helping King Anti-Midas [myself] over here.)
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the epic saga of Anti-Midas. I hope you enjoyed your oasis.