F-Bomb

I dropped the f-bomb on a conference call at work the other day. It was Ash Wednesday. I went to church. It was great. I spent the whole daying trying my darndest not to touch my head. Towards the end of the day at the most inopportune moment, while on the phone with a client I rubbed my forehead. Of course, I had done such a good job not touching my forehead up to that point, that it was packed with ash. Most of which was just begging for a reason to go for a ride on nature’s roller coaster, gravity.

As soon as I did it, I paid the price. Ash was all over my eyes and I was in seering pain.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK”

After the first fuck, I put the phone on mute. Somewhere between the first and second fuck (the second being a reaction to the first) I banged my toe against a wall and I dealt with that pain by swinging my arm wildly knocking a water bottle over. I leave it the reader to allot f-bombs to embarrassing actions.

Within seconds my screen was populated with IM messages asking why I’m cursing.
I had no good answer and was trying not to cry from the seering pain in my eyes.

I stayed on mute the rest of the call and debated how to punish myself.