Home On The Fringe

Fringe Art

Contact Us

Recent Ramblings

The Chronicles

Fringe Reads

  • Powered by Blogger
  • Weblog Commenting and 

Trackback by HaloScan.com
  • Get StatCounter!

Pledge

I was never part of the Greek system in college, but I've heard stories about the hazing rituals, and I'm starting to feel like a new initiate of Phi Beta Heart Attack. On the one hand, I am humbled and flush with the perceived welcome into the new world I've stumbled upon. On the other hand, I'm looking half-suspiciously, half-eagerly over my shoulder every few seconds and wondering what forced feat comes next, what unimaginable challenge, what unexpected combination of heart palpitations.

Some of it is work-related, some is new house-related, some is high-maintenance kid-related, some is blended family-related, some of it is possible-upcoming-major-surgery-related, some of it is unspecified, but mostly right now my heart is pounding and my muscles are aching because when I ran down the stairs in my bare feet in the bedtime search for Quinn's blanket, my smooth, dry heels made contact with the wood floors and subsquently flipped out from under me. I spent a suspended few seconds in the air looking like a ridiculous cartoon character (and letting out an involuntary cartoon-like squeal in the process) before I landed with a sadly audience-less yet dramatic thud on my left hip. By the time John made it downstairs and asked innocently if I was okay, I was stomping around with irritation. "No I'm not okay! I stepped down and slid all over the place. WHAT is on these floors?!" He stared at me as I watched the wheels in his head visibly turn, then the muscles in his face start to shake with the effort to stay straight.

"Uh..."

"John.. what?"

"Pledge. What's on the floors is Pledge."

"That's for FURNITURE!"

"Well, wood surfaces. Especially when you want to slide. Which the kids did. This afternoon."

"Pledge!!! You coated the floors in Pledge?"

Barely keeping the tears of laughter from streaming down his beet-red face as the kids triumphantly "ice skated" past me in their pajamas, he sputtered out a tentative "sorry? I'm sorry! I'm really sor--ahahahahaa!"

Well. At least the rest of Phi Beta Heart Attack is enjoying my hazing.