Mama said there would be days like this but she never left a clue there would be entire months to test the soul. My all time worst nightmares occurred this month.

1. Picture it. I’m moving cases of my books into a big hall to sell at the holiday market sponsored by the Methodist church on Friday. It’s well attended and I needed to get rid of eight cases of books remaining so can stuff something other than books under my bed. I’ve stowed them in the guest room shower, the freezer, and my rarely used oven.  But with the holidays approaching its time to fire up the oven and, sadly, baked books aren’t edible.

As I scurried around decorating my booth, Kathryn Laughton, the chairman, came over to chat. As I was backing up to tweak the display I tripped over a full case of books someone had just deposited behind me.  Of course I fell over backwards and hit the floor so hard my wig popped off and shot across the room.

I should explain that I had to start chemo again three weeks ago and I have only a few Denis the Menace-like twigs left on top of my head and they stick straight up.  All the other vendors just starred in horror.  The looks on their faces will stay with me forever.

It was so funny I began to laugh, nervously at first then hysterically and everyone else joined in, relieved I wasn’t in tears I guess.  Kathryn tried to help me up but I did it by myself – I didn’t want her falling and maybe losing her wig. (Just kidding, she has real hair).  I pulled my rug back on and went about my business.  What else could I do? Thank goodness I had just vacuumed my head – a brilliant idea if I do do say so.

Here’s a great tip for anyone experiencing hair loss due to chemotherapy which means it typically begins to molt 15 days after beginning the series.  If you don’t shave it, which I refuse to do, it will be all over the house. So I took the attachment off my vacuum and let the suction extract the wayward hairs in a jiffy.  Voila, no hair all over the house or clogging the drain.  I must send this to Heloise Hints.

2.Another day I was snugly tucked in Big Red (my favorite chair) and cued up a Netflix movie.  Suddenly  I began to hear this chirping noise.  I went to investigate thinking a chimney sweep must have flown down the flu.  Rebel and Lucky started barking and I couldn’t hear myself think.

I discovered the chirp was coming from one of my smoke detectors. I believe that is a clue that battery is dead.  After listening to that infernal chirp for two hours, I grabbed a broom and beat it until half the contraption fell off the wall.  My well meaning contractor had installed the detector at he very top of the 12-foot ceilings and it would take a seven foot basketball player with a extension ladder to reach it.  The broom worked.   No more chirping.  But also no more smoke detectors which probably doesn’t matter all that much since I don’t cook any more.

3. Lastly and most dangerously of all, I cleaned my entire kitchen with Round-Up.  I had put some of the deadly poison in a squirt bottle and somehow it ended up under the sink with my homemade window cleaner. Since my eyesight sent south and my glasses were somewhere up north, I couldn’t read the homemade label until I found my specs and glanced at the fuzzy lettering. I ‘BOUT DIED and may yet if I ingested any of the stuff.  !