Shouldn't throw Grandmas. Or small boys. Or anything for that matter...
I never actually realised how much glass there is in old Japanese houses but when you break it down, genkan door, sliding doors, plus all the usual back door and window fuckery.
So last week was just bad when it came to glass, first of all, after being pissed at Grandma over the whole homework thing, I wasn't not talking to her, but I wasn't making my usual small talk. I was happily relaxing at home when I heard a huge crash and glass shattering, I instantly thought a kitchen cabinet had collapsed at Grandmas house and flew up (as fast as a chubby white girl can move anyway, so really not flew but more stomped awkwardly) to see what had happened. Of course Ryota flicked his eyes up once from whatever ridiculous thing he was looking at on the computer and then went back to it despite pretty much all his surviving family members being at Grandma's house. So I get outside and do the two steps to Grandma's front door and see Grandma in a heap on the genkan floor in a bed of chunky glass that had smashed as she crashed through the door. Apparently she'd slipped trying to get up the step and had fallen backwards. Being 87 and all she had no time for balancing and went down into the door, poor old thing. In true Grandma style though she got up and walked away broken bone free and nothing but a little scratch from some glass. So bottom line- the door is fucked, Grandma is fine!
So a few days later I was at work, just finishing up a kids lesson when a happy little 7 year old shouted "Bye Bye Corinne Sensei!!!" and ran to go out the door, would have been fine, only he missed the handle and went straight through the glass door of the school. Fuuuuuucccckkkk. He stood on the other side, his face as white as mine and I thought we'd got out of it unscathed until I looked down to see a massive chunk of glass embedded in his wrist. I'm not too bad with blood, but holy fuck it started pissing out everywhere and I could see some funky shit at the bottom of his cut, it was white and not normal so I sat him down, remembered my American soap watching first aid skills and wrapped a hanky around the cut. Called Ryota AKA Mr Calm in an emergency and then called an ambulance. Now I get fucking nervous on the phone in Japanese when I'm ordering a pizza, so trying to get an ambulance was a whole new level of panic for me, I managed somehow though and after an eternity the little men came in their little ambulance and took the poor kid to hospital. 10 stitches and a new door later and we're sweet again but fuck me, I'm thinking of blocking off all glass, it's just not worth the hassle!
Ow! I pictured a lot of blood reading this.ReplyDelete
The people on the emergency line must be pretty used to callers barely being coherent and in panic. They must know how to get all the necessary information anyway. :-) Well done, you! And wow! 10 stitches is a lot!
I'm sure glad grandma wasn't hurt. Grandmas don't heal well, I heard. ;-)
I agree with you. I have glass doors. People walk into them not realizing it's glass etc. Besides falls are always a danger.ReplyDelete
So nice to hear from you. Please keep blogging. I like boring, mundane stuff. Besides you are never boring. You are an excellent and entertaining writer.
Glad you are back!ReplyDelete
SO happy you are back! I seriously missed reading your blog!! Even if your life is "mundane," your writing is still entertaining!! So what is DF doing back in Japan? I though she was living abroad?ReplyDelete
Hello, Corinne. One of your old friends who goes by "Shonen Love" is back to their old abusive ways, leaving abusive and racist comments for Western women living in Japan. Of course he's (it's always a he doing this kind of thing, isn't it?) is banned from commenting on my blog, but I'm curious as to why he's left comments for you calling you "Corrie" and saying that he misses you. Is this racist asshole truly a friend of yours? If so, he needs to have some sense knocked into him or the shit kicked out of him. Whichever best suits his cowardly ways.ReplyDelete
Dear Corinne, I miss your writing! Where are you? What's happening?ReplyDelete