Ordinary Disasters
Nicole Johnson



If I should die before I wake, call my mother, she’s probably worried. That seems ridiculous but the heat’s gone out again and it’s probably because I lost the bill. Or forgot to pay. Or the heater broke. Something. Call Mom anyway.

She thinks I leave the coffee pot on, or forget to turn the stove off. My curling iron is never unplugged when she visits and I was damn near mugged once. 

The bank is hounding me because my savings are over drawn, and Alan from Discover told me we need to talk. I don’t like Alan, he sounds like a priss on voice mail. 

The government sent a man last week from Quantico about my neighbor across the street. 

My front left tire went flat. I didn’t know until Bob from PR asked me if I needed help putting on the spare. No Bob, thanks very much, Julian, my boyfriend has it handled.

My right boob is smaller than the other one, I’m pretty sure. Except you just can’t tell.

And they hurt, but I can’t be pregnant because I haven’t slept with anyone since 1983.

The milk spoiled but I still used it, so I might have a strain of bacteria known as ‘lazy-steria’ and heaven knows how you treat that. Vodka might do it. 

I lost the television remote and the spare key to my front door. So now the television is stuck on crime dramas and I’m getting anxious finding out all the ways I could be murdered and maybe someone took the key, I didn’t just lose it.

My boss told me that I looked nice and I’m not sure if that’s sexual harassment or if it’s to make up for the day he told me very discreetly that I had toilet paper on my heel after visiting the ladies.

My glasses are scratched across the right lens. I don’t know how it happened. It must have been Harriet who shares the cubicle, because I’m not careless. Really, I’m not. I only left them on the fax machine to get toner, just for a minute.

Karen said that she thinks I just need to get laid. I don’t like Karen because I think she has loose morals. It might be bad feminism but I’m judging her. Because she judged me first. 

She would tell me right now that if I were sleeping with someone they would make my bed warm.

If I called my mom right now, she’d tell me to come home. She’s worried, damn it. 

Oh, look at that, I just turned off the thermostat.

About the author:
Nicole Johnson is an undergraduate student at Central Michigan University. She is graduating in the Spring 2015. Her areas of study have been psychology as well as creative writing; but honestly she loves to dabble in a bit of everything. Her favorite activity is to curl up with a good mystery novel on the couch and snuggle her dogs, Buddy and Tanner.