I have finally gotten around to posting about this little incident that happened a few weeks ago. Wait, make that very unfortunate little incident that happened a few weeks ago. Very unfortunate.

Okay, so now I have probably freaked you out. What happened that was so unfortunate? Did I perhaps explode a can of gasoline? No. Or how about this: maybe I got liver cancer and will die in a few weeks? Again, no. Actually, the "little" thing that happened to me (actually, that I did) was way more complicated than that. But perhaps I should give you a little more background on what led up to the very calamitous thing that I did.

Setting- Day: Sunday; Time: 8:50 a.m.; Where: my room/closet

Story: Okay, so I'm ten minutes from leaving to go to church, and I have neither eaten nor gotten completely dressed (as usual). When I say that I was not completely dressed, I mean that I was actually almost dressed excepting my belt, which I could not find. I was very distressed, knowing that one can certainly not go to church without one’s belt. I had already frantically searched my clothes drawers, the laundry room, my bathroom, and my belt rack. So I turned to my last resort: the closet. Now you must understand something very key to this whole story: my closet is in no way big. It is in fact, dinky, with two sliding doors that have mirrors on the outsides (a very common closet thing). Sure, the closet is very long, but only about three feet deep, thus making it very hard to move around in. Also, my brother and I share a room and had, in recent months, somehow managed to allow quite a pile of boxes full of nothing other than junk (paper, school stuff, books, toys, and other countless items which together become known as junk). A few comforters and sleeping bags were in my closet too, along with our nice clothes that were hanging about three feet from the ground. In other words, our closet was a mess.

Now, two of the said boxes of junk that were in our closet were inside of each other, with a few blankets and a lot of books stacked on top of them. I had (after looking through the rest of the closet) a strange suspicion that my belt was in the bottom box. So, without caring to remove the other stuff on top of the box (which was a plastic laundry basket, I should mention, not one of those wimpy cardboard boxes that can be manipulated and bent easily), I dug through it, searching by feel for the belt. When I was through, I tried to remove my hand, but found it stuck between the boxes. So I tried to shift the boxes and junk with my other hand, but to no avail. I was well and truly stuck. And five minutes before leaving for church too! ‘AAAAH!!!’ my brain was screaming in frustration and my mouth felt like following suit. But I wasn’t going to let that happen (since when do teenage boys scream about getting their hand stuck? Never). Instead, I gathered all the energy of that waiting scream and used it to lift the box and junk off of my hand. I yanked my hand out from under the box and…slammed it against the wall. Ow. I groaned in anger and then it happened: I, lying on my side and twisted around the open closet door and also completely exhausted after having just used almost all of my energy to lift a very heavy box, let the very heavy box drop and crush my other hand, bending my fingers back and scraping the top layer of skin off of the back of my palm. So now I had two hurting hands and a newly stuck one. I wanted to tear the boxes into little shreds, but couldn’t. I was so frustrated and mad at my predicament that I was about to try to lift the boxes off again when my dad called to me from downstairs, telling me to get moving and get in the car. That was it, the last straw. I yanked my throbbing hand out from between the two boxes and…smacked my elbow into the backside of the door. I heard a loud crunch and knew that I was dead. I crawled/shoved my way out of the closet, and rolled back the closet door to see my “handiwork”. There, across the bottom two-thirds of the mirror, was a huge crack. This crack was not your normal straight-line, hair breadth crack. Oh no. Of course not (why would it be?). This was your completely huge, spider-web like, very deep crack. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. That hurt. Here's some pictures of the mirror after the incident:

Mirror 1

Mirror 2

Mirror 3

Suffice to say, I still ended up going to church without a belt . Now, the fact that I wrecked my loset door wasn't as bad as you think, seeing as we were going to rip the mirror out anyway. But it was still pretty bad...and I know, I'm a little clumsy...okay, fine, a LOT clumsy! Whatever. Fine. You're embarassing me, so go away. Goodbye!

HRTF