Sarah Grace gets attacked by a dog... a 2nd time

Forewarning: this is a graphic post with lots of pictures of my wounds. Don't read it if you are weak-stomached.


This would happen to me. I hesitated to call it a Sarah Grace story because I didn't do anything to cause this harm to myself but, nonetheless, if a freak accident would happen to someone, it would be me, Sarah Grace, so here it is.

It was an afternoon like so many others; I had called a friend on my way home from work and having just parked at my apartment complex, I went to check the mail. I was having a phonedate with my friend Mikah who happened to be about 8.5 months pregnant. I was quietly, calmly and slowly walking and talking as I crossed the parking lot.

The Attack

All of a sudden, out of nowhere I felt an intense pain in the back of my thigh. I turned around and see a dog that had just bit me and it was coming at me again. Since I had half-turned at that point, the dog grabbed at my ankle this time and I had to shake several times with a lot of force to get it off of my ankle. In the process, my shoe - a little office flat, not tied or buckled on to my foot - fell off.

As a result, the 3rd time the dog came at me, I was fully turned around and expecting it so I kicked at it but, because I no longer had a shoe on, it got the bottom of my heel.

Finally, the owner got the dog and was holding it. It was wearing a leash and the owner had been there the whole time but somehow the dog got away from him and came after me. I'm still not sure what provoked it.

The Aftermath

Though I was bit three times, my foot was what was bleeding the most. It kept steadily dripping and was immediately bruising on my ankle. I was panicking.

Part of why I was so concerned was because, as some of you may remember, I've actually been attacked by a dog before, but that bite didn't bleed nearly as much and it didn't even bruise until the next day. As a result, I was freaking out that this dog may have gotten a vein or tendon because of how much blood I was losing and immediate bruising. I then began freaking out that I may not be able to walk again. Clearly, I was getting irrational ;)

 Next, I feared I might faint from the blood loss. PLUS - the man was still just a few feet away from me and just holding the dog by the collar. He hadn't put it in the back of his truck or moved it away from me or anything. He did apologize though and kept assuring me the dog is up to date on shots. I hobbled over to lean up against a car and call Scott.

His phone was still on silent from work so it took 3 calls til he answered. Before I could even finish my sentence, he was rushing out to find me.

I also noticed my poor friend Mikah had called me back several times. I texted her to explain I was bit by a dog. She said all of a sudden she had just heard me screaming. She didn't know if I was being robbed, raped, whatever. I apologized if I almost sent her into pre-term labor.

Still bleeding, I sat down to avoid falling on my face. When Scott showed up a minute later, he found me like this (which, of course, I insisted be documented because I scrapbook and blog and this scenario would obviously need to be documented!).

I don't really know what my face says here but I was in a daze, hurting, irrationally upset and worried about if we went to the ER, how much it would cost.

Plus, now about 15 feet away, that little snot of a dog who did this to me was staring me down. Fortunately, Scott had his cop training kick in so he got the dog owner's apartment number, phone number, pictures of me AND a picture of the dog so we had all our evidence.

Unfortunately, now I can't use artistic license or Andrews exaggeration to say the dog that attacked me was some huge, ferocious, beast of a dog that weighed as much as I did.

No, I am reduced to the truth: I was attacked by this cute, little dog.

NOTE: its tail is wagging. And the dog barely comes up to my knee.

And do you see that smug look on it's face!?!

Priorities

Scott insisted we go to the ER. Dazed and hurting as I may have been, I did not forget to be my anal, clean self because I didn't want to ruin the car's carpet with blood. I asked Scott if he would please go get a towel for me to wrap around my foot before he retrieved the car from the other end of the parking lot to pick me up.

As he left, a boy of about 10 or 11 kept circling around my end of the parking lot on his scooter, unabashedly staring me down. I guess I was the most exciting thing he'd seen at our apartment in awhile. I thought to myself, "Thank God the dog didn't attack him or one of the older women who live by themselves in our apartment building."

While Scott and the boy on the scooter were gone, the female owner of the dog arrived. She said, "Oh my God. Oh no. Honey, I'm so sorry. She ain't never bit someone where it bled this much before."

I wish someone could have been there to document whatever expression came onto my face when I heard that.

She went on to assure me that she has a sweet dog and it goes to doggy day care and is a good dog. At this point, I'm just wanting her to leave so I tried to gracefully say, "I'm sure he is and I know accidents happen, I just didn't even see him coming."

She interrupted me to say, "Oh, it's a she."

Oh, no she didn't.

She did.

I reallllly wish someone could have documented my face then.

Fortunately, before I could have said or done something I regretted in my irrational, delusional state of pain and blood loss, Scott arrived.

He helped me into the car and off to the ER we went.

My 1st Ever ER Visit

On the way there, I was losing it and bawling and freaking out. However, once we got inside and I realized I wasn't dying or going to lose the ability to walk, etc. etc. like I had been worrying about, I calmed down a bit and even mustered a smile when I asked Scott to document this part of the saga:

We had to wait a while and they required us to start an official report for animal control services. Turns out the animal control officers knew this dog. It had in fact bitten someone (or several people?) before.

More shocking and distasteful than that, we found out the dog's name was Lily. Lily!?! Sounds so damn dainty.

Anywho, the visit drug on. Once we finally got back to a room, the examination and cleaning of my wounds was made difficult by the fact that I was wearing the tightest pair of pants that I own. Literally.

I didn't want to take my tight pants all the way off - that would get blood all over them, hurt as the tight fabric had to be pulled over my ankle and heel and, most importantly, they would have to be put back on and hurt my wounds all over again when I had to leave since you don't get to keep those hospital gowns.

I decided to just meet in the middle and pull them part way up from my ankle and part way down from my thigh. You can see, at this point, I'm not sure if I was having fun with it or had just lost my mind but I thought I'd done a good job solving that situation. NOTE: I don't think I even asked for this photo to be taken; I think Scott just wanted to take it to document my crazy self at the moment.

By the end of 2 hours, they had cleaned my wounds, given me some bandages and prescriptions and sent me on my way.

On the Bright Side 

One positive out of all of this was I got to live out a childhood dream. We went to the closest pharmacy which was at Walmart. We didn't think someone could pick up narcotics for someone else (they prescribed me Vicodin for the pain) so we both went to drop off my prescription. Since I couldn't really walk, Scott had to get me one of these which my mom never let me ride, though my brother and I had always begged for her to let us take one for a joy ride when we were little.

While some dreams do come true, this was anti-climactic. It was slow as molasses. But, we got my Vicodin and an antibiotic to help prevent infection.

That was the beginning of Scott being a great nurse and taking such great care of me as I healed.

The Wounds

I had 3 bites. Later that night I, of course, documented all of them. This time, however, it was not just for a blogpost or scrapbook but for an animal control services official report.

The cut on my heel made it hard to walk because it became swollen and sore and kept breaking open. Fortunately, our neighbor had an old pair of crutches so I used them for the first week or so when I couldn't really walk. That wound was the first to heal, though after about a month.

The second to heal was arguably the nastiest looking one. That tiny dog had a lot of force because it got high on my thigh and left this dark mark with a huge knot:

This is 4 days after the attack. You can see the two chunks missing from the teeth and the tape marks where we had the bandages on. 

It got larger, darker and nastier. Some people thought it was a tattoo from afar. This photo is about a week out from the attack. It stayed bruised for around 3 weeks and the knot stuck around for over a month.

The one on my ankle was ultimately the worst with seemingly each movement ripping back open the wound. While the ER doctors said it could have used stitches, they avoid stitching bite wounds because mouths are so dirty and the rate of infection goes up astronomically. Even so, it was such a deep wound that it was slow to heal and got infected a couple times.

Bruising, discoloration, swelling, nasty walking-dead-level-gross-flesh looking stuff. I kept taking pictures not just to have gross documentation but because Scott's step-dad is a firefighter/EMT and he was letting me know (a) if it was infected or a serious problem and (b) how to clean/care for the wounds.

Fortunately, 2 months out (last week), it is back to almost normal:

It's still a little sore and tight and I can't do all the yoga moves I did before the attack (ironically "downward facing dog" which uses so much of the back of the thigh, the ankle and heel is what I've had the most trouble with!) but I'm getting there.

So What Happened to Lily?

She was required by animal services to be in a 10 day quarantine to check her for diseases, most notably rabies. Praise God, she was up to date on all of her shots and rabies free so I didn't have to do any follow up shots after the attack.

Scott and I both grew up with dogs and our family has always had them so we are dog people. As a result, we didn't try to push for her to be put down. Plus, we were trying to stay on good terms with the dog owners so they would pay the bills. Fortunately, they did pay us and covered the meds and the ER bills. The man even gave Scott an extra $50 to "take your wife to dinner" as an apology. It was nice of them and well-timed as our 2-year anniversary was the week after they paid us so we used that to splurge on a meal out. I even wrote the neighbors a thank you note to try to keep any awkward tension at bay + we were truly grateful for how cooperative they were through the process.

However, Lily is now officially listed as "a vicious and dangerous dog" in the county and the state because she has bitten more than one person and because of the severity of my injuries. As a result, if this happens again, I don't think there is an option and Lily will be put down. Until then, she is required to be muzzled whenever out of the house. We've run into them a couple times and Lily has been muzzled. It is still a bit unsettling.

So there you have it. Sarah Grace attacked by a dog, for a 2nd time.

Here's to hoping I don't have to write a 3rd post on this topic!

A Fresh New Season: Paint, Perspective & a Little Sparkle

This weekend I painted our coffee table, the one I bought 3 years ago off of Craigs List. It needed a fresh coat of paint then and I added another layer of black to match its then current color, but this time was different.

I had this little black coffee table in South Carolina, Tennessee and, now, North Carolina and it has served me well. 

We have eaten countless meals off of it. I've kicked my feet up on it to paint my toenails or relax while watching tv. I sat at it for I don't know how many hours in grad school doing homework, grading my students' papers, writing my own. 

Through all of its use, it has always held a candle at one of its corners. I light them to relax whether I am enjoying a glass of wine, journaling, reading my Bible, etc. 

It has served us well and - even still - it has good bones. It may have been a little dirty, flaking paint and its shine had been dulled from all of its use, but, it has remained sturdy and reliable. 

I felt a lot like that table from making the same moves between 3 different states, surviving grad school while working 2 jobs and planning a wedding followed by figuring out marriage, then moving to NC to endure Scott's schooling and career change, plus, both of our intense jobs hunts with tons of rejections and temp positions. 

I feel a little beat up and like I've lost some of my shine. 

But, this weekend I sanded off the flaking paint and smoothed out the rough spots. 

There were about 4 layers of paint

Then I replaced the black, scratched and dulled paint with a fresh new coat in a tranquil, pretty blue. It now looks so lovely, so polished. It is ready for its next season. Hopefully it will be a more gentle one, but either way, after 2 coats of paint and time outside in the sunshine and fresh air, it is ready. 

It looks very different in the daylight vs. at night

I love crafting because it is fun, creative, therapeutic, and it provides my mind time to wander. But I also love the sense of accomplishment from seeing the before and after and that fresh feeling of excitement and hope for its next season of use. 

After this weekend, I feel a lot like this table, ready for my next season. 

Adding Some Sparkle 

I didn't stop with the table though. We needed a new chest and this weekend we bought this one from Craigs List. 

This was the ad on Craigs List

It was pretty but I thought it could use some sparkle. 

I decided to try an antique mirror finish for the glass doors. Here's how it turned out: 

The sparkle is pretty but also practical because now you

won't see all the stuff inside the chest

Because it reflected, it was hard to get a picture, but 

I did a mercury finish on the knobs & windows

I'm ready for a fresh start and to add some sparkle to my life. Because sparkle helps to spread light and even though this has been a tough transition to NC, there's always room for light. I love seeing the twinkle of stars in the sky and I'm often reminded of this quote:

 "Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars." 

One way I want to add some sparkle to my life is through blogging. I've let it go in the time and transitions that I've had with this coffee table but I love to write so I decided to give my blog a fresh new look as well. It has a new template and colors, hopefully ready to usher in a new season where I update it more than once a year! 

This weekend brought lots of new paint, perspective and a little sparkle.

The candle I currently have on my coffee table says "Let the light shine." And that is exactly what I intend to do. 

Here's to a fresh, new season. 

My "Shitty" First Job

A little over a week ago, I started my first job, post grad school. While it will only last a few weeks because it is a temp job, I still thought it was worth a post ;)

I received a call from the staffing agency with some vague details of a job I could start the very next day. I asked for 5 minutes to think it over and she said, "I will give you 3."

Engineering

I told her I would take it, knowing little more than the time I needed to be there the next morning and that I would be headed to the Durham County Department of Engineering.

My family found this hilarious since my twin brother - now an engineer - stole all the math genes from my accountant mom and engineer dad. I've been the liberal artsy type my whole life but, here I was, headed to work with the engineers.

Shit

Turns out, I was actually headed to the Utility Division of the Engineering Department and I would be working at the Triangle Wastewater Treatment Plant.... which I now affectionately refer to as "the poop plant."

That's right. More humble pie as my first job with my masters is working with shit at the poop plant ;)

However, I am happy to say that I have loved the job and everyone there has been incredibly nice and welcoming.

To clarify, I'm not "knee deep in shit" all day as some of my friends and family have asked!

In fact, I stay inside, clean and free from any shit at this huge desk.

I even have two monitors which is magical!

I am filling in for the Senior Administrative Assistant until they can hire a replacement for the lady who used to be in that position.

I have been able to learn a lot about the plant and some accounting and budgeting skills as we have been busy wrapping up the fiscal year and processing all of that paperwork. That has been great since I did not have a ton of experience in that before this job.

Security

In addition to learning that and serving as the receptionist (answering the phone, greeting guests, sending and receiving mail, etc.), I am also part security guard.

This department is tied in with homeland security so people cannot just freely enter the building. I have to buzz them in and get their ID info and sign them in. I also have security camera feeds on my desk. Who'd have thunk it? Sarah the security guard at the poop plant!?!

Makin' Friends

All joking aside, it has been great and I look forward to working there the next couple of weeks. I was suffering from cabin fever being at home too much so it is great to get out of the house to make money and have social interaction.

I have really enjoyed getting to know the people who work there. I've realized that is the unwritten part of my job description: listening and chatting when people stop by my desk. I've especially hit it off with my supervisor, Corinna, who is in the office right beside my desk.

Friday, after she got back from her lunch break, she called me into her office and asked me to shut the door. This had not happened yet so I thought, "Oh no. I must be in trouble! What was it that I did wrong?" and I was slightly panicked.

She said that she did not normally do this but that I was doing a really great job, that she appreciated all my help and liked working with me. At this point, I was starting to relax as I was sensing that I had not been called into her office for a reprimand. She finished by saying that she also knew I was new to the area so she just wanted to get me a little something as a thank you and a housewarming gift!?! Then she pulled this out from behind her desk:

She had been running errands on her break and when she was in the store, she saw some items that she knew I could use from all the conversations we had during the previous work week. How sweet was that?? She got me some flower pots for my patio garden, a journal because I like to write, some battery powered candles since my apartment doesn't allow real ones and a few other very thoughtful gifts.

You can tell she is great at her administrative job because of her attention to detail and her planning - she even got batteries in case I didn't have them. BUT, she also is a pro at putting together thoughtful gifts because she has done this several times before; shout out to her website where you can check out her other crafty and kind work!

I was blown away as she has set the bar high for my next supervisor and job. Everyone there has. I have enjoyed going into work each day and I hope I can say the same for my next job :)

Say a Prayer...

Lastly, some of the guys have promised me a tour of the plant so I can see what all they do. It is way more than you might imagine.  I've been told I have to wear tennis shoes so I can get around better as we explore the plant. However, even in tennis shoes, y'all know my accident-prone self has a tendency to be a bit clumsy. So say a prayer that I don't have a Sarah Grace situation near the shit ;) But if I do, rest assured, there will be another blogpost coming soon after it!  

Vanderbilt Shmanderbilt Degree - A Large Slice of Humble Pie at the Temp Agency & the DMV

Earlier this month, I received a Masters degree from Vanderbilt. This was technically my third degree because I double-majored in undergrad.

Don't let the degrees fool you though. It seems I'm just book smart because I've been struggling recently with real life. 

Adult life is humbling. 

I wasn't getting too big for my britches with this additional degree but, nonetheless, I've had a huge slice of humble pie since moving to NC. I thought tests and grades ended with grad school but I was wrong. 

Trouble with the Temp Test

First, I went to a local temp agency to try to get a job to pay the bills and buy some time until I can land the "dream job" I'm searching for... you know the one I just went into debt trying to prepare myself for ;) I don't want to rush into the first salaried job that I find. 

Well, what do ya know... I failed the temp agency test. Yep. I repeat: Vanderbilt Masters Grad failed the temp test ;) 

It was true-false and you can only miss 3... but I missed 4. 

I'm sure this was hard to imagine butttt I was talking the whole time while taking it ;) I've been cooped up in my apartment alone and unpacking all day every day so my extroverted self has been losing my mind without much social interaction. 

As a result, I was just chatting away with the man who worked there and wasn't paying enough attention nor was I trying too hard with the test. It seems I don't multi-task too well when trying to determine "the best placement of my feet to avoid lumbar strain" and the other random questions that were on their test ;) 

Fortunately, I was able to retake it and did fine. Also, my typing speed was double the average applicant (it seems writing long grad school papers paid off!) so I believe I should land a secretary job here soon enough. 

Feeling Dumb at the DMV

I need a NC drivers license so I had to make the dreaded trip to the DMV. Why must all DMV workers be so mean? I understand it may not be the best job in the world but this lady was extremely rude. 

Still craving social interaction and never having met a stranger, I sat down being all friendly and noticed the woman was wearing palmetto tree earrings so I asked if she was originally from SC. She wasn't but it turns out she had just visited Charleston where she bought the earrings as a souvenir. I tried to chat about the city but she was having none of it. 

This lady was all about the task at hand. We struggled through insurance and verifying my address and all of that. Everything was going along per usual until we got to the vision test. 

NC does not do it like they do in SC and TN. 

I already struggle with my awful vision and have to squint through that weird machine and the germaphobe in me fears I will get a breakout from putting my face on there - I mean how often do they wipe those things down?? 

Anyways, I managed to read all the tiny letters. But then, this is where it got different: NC has a bunch of the street signs that you have to identify.

I did fine on the median one and the one warning about the steep hill. They were obvious.  

 

But, then there were 4 or 5 blank ones.... 

I just told the lady the shapes because I was thinking this was still a vision test. 

She said, all mean and condescending, "I know what the shapes are but what are the signs?"

Perhaps I was having performance anxiety as I had not prepared for this OR maybe I was just having a PTSD-esque flashback to my 15 year old self worried about failing the drivers permit test but, either way, I just couldn't remember them. 

All I could say was "I'm sorry. I don't know." 

But I was getting frustrated and wanted to also say, 

"Look lady. Those aren't signs. Those are shapes. Because they are blank. And when is the last time anyone has ever seen a blank sign on the side of the road? Oh that's right - never. Because then it wouldn't be a sign. Because that is the point of signs: they have symbols on them that convey meaning. But these little shapes you're asking me to identify are blank so they are not signs." 

But, of course, my southern belle self just sat there, humbled, and politely repeated, "I'm sorry. I don't know." 

As I said in the blogpost title" Vanderbilt Shmanderbilt Degree" ;) It wasn't much help at the temp agency or the DMV!

Do YOU know what the yellow circle sign is for? 

Fortunately, I guess they don't take the test too seriously or perhaps that mean woman just didn't want to have to see me again on a different day or whatever because she gave me my license. 

What she did NOT give me though, were the answers to the blank signs. 

The nerd in me had to find out. 

Turns out, (in case you too didn't know) the yellow circle sign is a railroad crossing sign: 

But you know what gives that away??? 

The R and the R and the cross/X that is marked ON the sign... not the yellow and the circle part. Jeeze Louise. 

The house shaped yellow sign is a school crossing and the oblong yellow triangle (that I have never seen in my entire life) is supposed to be a "no passing zone" sign. I don't even remember what the other one or two signs were. 

But that lady was being so mean and rude and I was caught off-guard by the blank "signs" section that I wanted to submit this as my answer: 

I don't think that would have helped me walk out of there with a license though ;) 

Hopefully I don't have to eat any more humble pie but I will keep y'all posted... 

  

A Wonderful, WET, Sarah Grace Christmas Moment

A huge Christmas attraction here in Nashville is the Opryland Hotel's Christmas lights. Scott and I decided to check it out the night before Christmas Eve.

The hotel itself is a sight to see, with or without Christmas decorations. It is HUGE:

A large portion of it is an indoor garden with a river inside; we even saw people on a little boat tour. 

 

 

Our evening was lovely and almost ended without a hitch. 

We saw lovely trees, some even made from poinsettias, a nativity out front and LOTS of lights. 

We decided - unfortunately - to take one last stroll through the indoor garden. 

We rounded a corner and saw this lovely gazebo that I snapped a picture of: 

I noticed that couple with the man trying to take his wife's picture. As we passed them, I asked if they would like me to take their photo. The wife eagerly said, "Yes! Thank you." 

Well, as it is said: no good deed goes unpunished! 

I took one photo, no problem. 

However, I realized I didn't get the top of the gazebo in the shot so I said I would take one more picture to get the full picture. 

I didn't think to look behind me before I took a step back... right into the little river behind me. 

Yes. I fell in!?! 

Fortunately, it was only like 2 and a half feet deep and once I got my feet under me, I didn't panic but hopped right back out. 

My main focus was to NOT drop their phone in with me. By a miracle, I didn't drop their phone or mine or my jacket in the water. 

However, my entire hiney and both my legs were soaked. Scott wasn't too embarrassed to take a picture of me after ;) 

This is the little part of the river that I fell in: 

My bum hit the bricks of that little island where the plants were. Pictured below is the stain left on the backside of my bluejeans. Not pictured is the dark purple bruise left on my bum. 

The lady felt awful and they said they saw it coming but not in time to warn me, and felt awful. Scott saw it coming too but he thought I would look back to see where I was stepping or would take a smaller step and be able to catch myself. But, no, I took a huge step back, right into the river. 

The look on that lady's face was pretty priceless. I told her not to worry, that this sort of thing happened to me all the time; I even told her my nickname is Sarah Grace. Scott said that he felt more uncomfortable and embarrassed for her because he knew I did this often but she clearly felt bad. 

We laughed it off and wished each other a merry Christmas before parting ways, both with a great photo and story! 

I was just grateful I wasn't really hurt and hadn't ruined either of our phones... and that the lights were dimmed so the whole hotel couldn't see my soaking wet pants as we had a long walk back to the exit of that ginormous hotel. 

It was cold outside so we rushed home to get me out of my soaking bottoms so we could slip into warm pjs and then we warmed up with some delicious hot cocoa! 

It was a cold, wet Christmas memory and I learned my lesson the hard way but now I know to look behind me before I take my next picture ;) 

Merry Christmas from Sarah Grace! 

S#@! Happens - My Sarah Grace Moment that Led to my First Meltdown of Married Life

A picture is worth a thousand words, right?

Well, here is one of them that lives up to that saying:

Yes. That happened.

And, believe it or not, my melt-down did not happen in that moment.

"Ironing"

First off, I never iron; ironing for me is pulling the clothes immediately out of the dryer and hanging them on a hanger so they don't wrinkle. I never even bought a full-sized ironing board but still have the 2-foot long, 5-inch high, bright-pink dorm-sized one that I got as a freshman in college.... and it has seriously been used less than 10 times since then.

Admittedly, I am inexperienced with ironing ;)

Having said that, now that I have a husband and he often has to wear khakis to work, my version of "ironing" wasn't doing the trick. He was attempting to iron his pants and left the iron face down on the khakis and after I fussed that doing that would scorch the fabric, he suggested I iron them. Boy did I eat my own words.

Burning

I still have no idea how but in the midst of ironing and talking, I set the iron FACE DOWN on the floor. Just 5-10 seconds but enough time to do damage. And serious damage.

Sarah Grace struck again.

It burned the carpet leaving a dark indent AND we have short-haired carpet so I couldn't trim off the burn. Not that I was being rational and thinking of that in the panic that followed my discovery of the burn; here I am trying to scrape off the scorched portion with a knife. I was so focused that I didn't even notice when poor Scott was documenting his crazy wife:

To make matters worse, of course I wasn't ironing in a dimly lit corner. Nope, that would be too convenient to cover the burn mark. We set up ironing in the middle of the floor and in our teeny tiny apartment, the burn is visible not only in the living room but also from the bedroom, front door, kitchen AND breakfast nook.

I had a mini-freak out but no meltdown. That came the next day.

Crying

I didn't want to have to pay the $500 security deposit when we move out of the apartment... so I was determined to fix my mistake. I researched oodles of options and watched a few youtube videos and then set out on a mission to right my wrong.

I especially felt the need to correct the burn mark mistake since the day after I burned the carpet, my car was due in for its repair from my previous Sarah-Grace moment and the deductible was also $500. I couldn't handle being the cause of $1,000 worth of mistakes.

Sadly, there didn't seem to be much I could do to fix the burn mark. My only hope, according to the far reaches of google, seemed to be sandpaper and a scrub-brush.

Fast-forward to the end of the day: I had purchased the necessary materials and been scrubbing and rubbing at the iron burn for a good 30 minutes when Scott got home.

What was his reaction when he walked in to find his wife scrunched down on my knees, red in the face, raw-fingered, with my hair up and my nose down to the floor, sandpapering the carpet...?

Laughter.

Looking back, obviously I can see how that was a natural reaction. However, in that moment, it was not the reaction I was hoping for. And that is when my meltdown happened.

The Lesson

Why the iron burn incident was my breaking point, I don't know. 

Context: 

The backstory is that Scott and I have been great but our first bit of marriage has been filled with a lot of transition and stress. We did all the normal post-wedding stuff  like registry returns and purchases, changing over our insurance and bills, writing literally over 100 thank you cards and getting adjusted to living with one another. 

But we also moved him half-way across the country and tried to organize our very small apartment which was already a squeeze when just I lived in it. Plus, we both started and quit bad jobs AND found and started new jobs this summer. Both those new jobs have had crazy hours and lots of stress. We did a family trip to see my family and then another one to see his family - both family vacations within the same month. And, I've been prepping for the next year of grad school. 

In the midst of all of that, I had kept it together and just plugged along grateful to be married and moving forward with our life together. However, inside me was a pressure cooker of stress - trying to be the perfect wife, daughter, daughter-in-law, employee, student, friend, etc. 

The Real Problem: 

Despite all those serious stresses, what broke me was an iron burn to my carpet!?! More specifically, my husband laughing at my earnest efforts to sandpaper the iron-burn away. 

I was trying to fix my mistake, to remove the obvious blemish on my attempt at perfection. 

But the truth is that sometimes s#@! just happens. 

Fortunately, I have a husband with a great sense of humor and perspective. When my meltdown started, he immediately quit laughing and helped me realize that it was just carpet and by the end of our conversation, he had me laughing. 

Of course, my meltdown was about more than an iron burn. It was about how I was trying to do the impossible: hold myself, my life and my home together perfectly, even when s#@! happens... whether that is an iron burn, job changes, school demands, etc. 

What I Learned: 

As I mentioned, that mark is in the very middle of our tiny apartment. I can see it from just about anywhere in our home. Sadly, it hasn't faded much and doesn't look like it will :(

We might be out $500 when we leave here but I've learned a lesson that is priceless and I'm reminded of it every time I see that freakin' iron-burn: I'm not going to be perfect and I never will be. Shit happens and we can either accept it, laugh and learn from it OR be bitter and beat ourselves up. I beat myself up and took it out on the carpet with the knife and sandpaper for a few days but now I have learned to sigh and chuckle when I see the mark. 

Most of all I have learned that I have a great husband who doesn't get upset at things like iron burns or at me when I pull a Sarah Grace moment AND that he should be the one to do his own ironing from now on ;)