Early Monday morning I was taking a shower and listening to music before leaving for campus. My wireless speaker was perched on the bathroom windowsill, and while I was blow drying my hair, a song came on with so much bass that the vibration actually gyrated the speaker off the windowsill and into the toilet. Alarmed, I dropped my $150 Baby Bliss blow dryer, whereupon the plastic backing cracked off the filter and flew across the bathroom floor. Nonplussed, I scooped my speaker out of the toilet with the intention to soak it in a container of rice, since I have heard that works well with iPhones. On my way out of the bathroom, the Baby Bliss cord wrapped around my foot, and the force broke off the plug. Not to be deterred, I continued on downstairs and immediately buried the speaker in the rice, whereupon it actually continued to play “Oh How Lovely Was the Morning” by David Tolk. Gratified that I had hopefully made it in time to at least save the speaker, I went upstairs to assess the blow dryer damage, and knew immediately that the Baby Bliss was unsalvageable. Needing to leave for campus in fifteen minutes so as to have time to make copies upon my arrival, I dug in my bathroom closet for my spare travel blow dryer, remembering not so quickly that I had brought it to Tarrytown, New York the weekend before. That travel bag already stored back in the attic, I began the ominous ascent into the attic, wishing my boys were home, and hoping no old witch was buried up there for a coven meeting, like in the movie “Hereditary.” Gripping the bag, it slipped out of my hands and onto the ground below, denting the expensive gray leather. Closing the attic door quickly so the witches would not be able to grab me that night in my sleep, and running incredibly late, I dried my hair, and left for class. I was ostensibly late for class and copy-less, resigned to having to use the projector lamp, but was not surprised to see that it was not projecting anything but defeat. My teaching effectiveness that day was a lukewarm 2/10.
Home later that day, enjoying a visit from my oldest son, I regaled him with the tale of my day, adding that at least I had saved the speaker. Munching salad out of a bowl, he glanced at my speaker.
“Good job, Mom,” he said, as he rinsed the bowl in the sink. “That’s a waterproof speaker.”
Oh, how lovely was the morning.
