I was sooo tired this week that I wanted to cry- and mind you, I am not much of a crier- when I had to get out of bed on Wednesday morning. The opera is 3+ hours long and has lots of special effects which take an extra special amount of time to get right.
So on Wednesday night when I got home at midnight- thankful that I had not nodded off on the drive home- I just grabbed everything out of the car in a big loose bundle: knitting bag, notepad, jacket, etc. I trudged to the door, juggled things around to unlock the door to my building, shut it behind me, and made for my apartment. There was a soft shushshshshushshsh noise behind me, like someone dragging a cardboard box up the steps outside. Funny, who would be bringing in a box this late? I had a bit of panic thinking it might be someone with bad intentions but when I turned around expecting to see someone at the door….. No, no one there. I headed off. Heard the noise again… realised something was pulling me… looked at my feet…. saw string wrapped around my legs…. wondered where it came from… oh, I see… look it goes out the door … gosh, where did it come from… OH, I SEE… it’s attached to me… it’s, no… yes, it’s my yarn. Wow, the end is on the other side of the door. How did that happen? I can just unwind myself… nope… unwind my bag… nope… go open the door and free myself…. well, no… the yarn is now wrapped around both legs and I can’t walk… I just looked at the yarn on my legs for a few seconds and decided I was stuck there. I contemplated sleeping standing up in the hallway until some kind well rested person could free me then I tried to push the yarn down off my legs. Only I couldn’t reach because I was trying to hang on to my bundle of stuff while I did it. I sacrificed the bags and dropped everything. My knitting bag got hung up on my shoulder bag and spilled everywhere but was somehow still attached to me. My water bottle rolled just out of sight where I knew I would probably step on it and the notepad went spat on the floor. I tried to push the yarn off. It clung. The bag swung around and hit me in the head when I bent over. I considered chewing my legs off.
When I finally freed myself and opened the door this was on the other side:
I think that means I could have gotten the scissors out of my bag and cut myself free. Only common sense needs a good night’s sleep to be really effective. It probably worked out better this way anyway. I could have poked my eye out with the scissors.