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cordsCords hate me. Really.

Have you ever had a whole category of inanimate objects hate you?  Please tell me you have. I feel so alone.

It’s hard.

It can erode your confidence, challenge your vocabulary, and hurt your soul.

It can also hurt more tangible areas of your person.

Especially since I send a great deal of my time with cords.

Juggling the cords behind the computer that’s theoretically become more wireless all the time. Hah!

Walking around with cords for two laptops, cell phone, mini-tablet. These are the tools of my trade. Those cords must accompany me through my day.

cordsPlugging in my Happy Lamp to keep from sinking into February SAD.

The land line. Not for the phone — I got a wireless handheld for that. But there’s still a cord from the handset to the headset, because it makes it so much easier to hear and I can keep doing other things while on the phone.

Except that just in the past week that wire has hooked on doorknobs, my glasses, the corner of my desk, my knees (one at a time), the corner of a countertop, the dog’s nose, a mug (full to the brim with tea), my hair, a CD case, drawer pulls, the garbage can, a dish, my toothbrush, a cutting board, two plants, my ear, and the dog’s leash, yanking me off the back steps by my head when she did a “Squirrel!”

This has led to some peculiar interruptions to conversations. “No I didn’t scream because I didn’t like that date for my dental appointment. I was trying to save a mug of hot tea from spilling.”

The laptop cord is forever catching on the corner of the stairs, doorknobs, and dresser pulls.

In a close relation, for some reasons my pockets – jackets, hoodies, robe, and occasionally pants – catch on doorknobs all the time. I mean, all the time.

Is this the universe’s way of telling me to unplug? Or that I move through my surroundings too fast? That I should give objects a wider berth (especially doorknobs and drawer pulls)?

I come back to where I started. It’s very clear that cords hate me.

And I hope to hear from some of you out there that I’m not alone. It doesn’t have to be cords. But, please, somebody hear my plea and understand …