I scared the liver out of myself yesterday. My mind is usually very sharp and churning into action when I wake up in the mornings. I was going through my morning routine, thinking about what I was going to wear, what I needed to do at work, what I needed to do before I went to work, what was in my email that needed attention, composing a new song in my head, making sure my husband was up….

I selected a shirt and set up the ironing board in the grandkids’ bedroom to press it. I turned on the iron and left it to heat while I washed my face and drank a cup of coffee. My favorite radio program was on; I listened intently while putting on my makeup. Time to iron the shirt. My thoughts were still turned inward as I enjoyed the morning and framed my day.

Now my Christmas decorations are mostly put away. One of the last remnants is a large basket containing tree decorations—silk poinsettias and a large bow I had made for the tree top. While waiting for my tall husband to put the basket in the top of the closet for me, I set it near the closet door with a sheet of bubble wrap carefully protecting the contents. On this fine morning, I did not notice that the bubble wrap had slipped to the floor behind me.

I began to iron and shifted my weight as I reached to rotate the shirt. I took one step backward, and—powpowpow pow pow powpow powpowpow! Was I being shot at? My mind raced with possibilities. Drive-by shooting? Something exploding behind me? I’m goin’ to meet the saints! My thoughts were going crazy, grasping for answers.

Wait a minute. Why don’t I feel pain?

It took me a couple of seconds to realize I was standing on bubble wrap. Every time I had tried to move to escape, I had stepped on more bubbles. Powpow pow powpow! Be still my heart!

I survived well enough to relate this story to my co-workers who laughed their heads off and shared it around the lunch table. Several people stopped me in the hallway, gleefully saying it was a good thing I didn’t run and call 9-1-1. Good point. I would hate to have to explain to the police that I was being attacked by bubble wrap. They would have taken me away, ha ha, to the cracker factory.

The moral of the story is………..always know where your bubble wrap is.
Or, have your heart meds close by!