Well…shit. This is something I tend to say all the time. If you have never met me you wouldn’t know the inflection. It’s something like this. Well (said very nonchalant and with no tone) * insert pause* Shit…Said short choppy and with no emotion. It’s my go to phrase when something goes array but there is little I can do about it. Like dropping your phone or burning dinner. Nothing tragic enough to get upset about but certainly bothersome.
“Well Shit” moments are the ones that when you are healthy and doing okay you can see them for what they are. Little annoyances that slow down your mojo but don’t really amount to much. You can even see the humor in their ability to bring down a notch. If you aren’t in a healthy place a “Well Shit” moment can push you over the edge. It’s that last straw where you can’t see anything but what a terrible tornado mess your life has become.
I hesitate to tell the story of the first Well Shit moment as it may make me seem cold and uncaring. Really it was the complete opposite. I saw the tragedy in the moment but there was nothing I could do about it. What was done was done. I was driving to a hike with two people who were not hikers. I was taking them to “The” hike in the northern Virginia area. (Insert related story that is not this story)
Old Rag is an amazing hike and extremely popular. It’s about 8 miles 3.5 up and the rest back down. The first 2 miles are switchbacks and can be grueling if you aren’t in shape but doable. The last 2 miles are fairly boring on fire road and flat-ish. The middle miles are the best. Lots of great rock scrambles that end in the most amazing view you will ever see. 360 degrees of views to be exact. I have been up this mountain several times. Once in the middle of the night in time for sunrise and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. This hike is the one that has created hikers. You go up and you fall in love. You get to the top and the sense of “HOLY CRAP I DID THAT” is probably the biggest most people have had till that date. I can’t tell you enough how much I think you should do this hike..but I digress. (Back to our story).
I am driving to this hike with two people. Who, I might add, fell in love with the hike. As I am driving down a split two lane highway with a huge grassy median, in an very rural area. A cat literally jumps into my tire. I couldn’t miss it, or stop, or do anything…. it JUMPED in FRONT of my tire! Out of now where! I hit the cat and of course it made the car bump. (Insert some context)
In the front seat is a man I am on a 3rd date with. In the back a co-worker I had been trying to convince to hike for a while. This was not starting off well. (Enough context)
I cant scream or cry or swerve because I am not around people I am ready to see the full me. So I just calmly say, “Well, Shit” The guy just stares and the co worker says “what was that?” The man says, in a very nonchalant way “Cat”. I felt terrible.
In that moment though I realized you don’t have to react poorly just because a piece of you is dying a bit. Some things we cant do anything about. Now that doesn’t mean I think you should deny your own feelings or even that you should hide yourself from other people just that we have a choice in if we let a “well shit” be a tornado or not. Needless to say that man did ask for another date and he has since become someone who has seen the real me. The co-worker still hikes and has become quite the lady of adventure and some one I deeply admire. The cat is still dead
A few years ago our neighbors cat fell asleep under a car in our driveway only to get crushed when our visitors pulled out. It happens unfortunately, but don't blame yourself, blame the cat 🙀
(Just be glad it wasn't a deer !)
Right! That does some damage!
A cat’s hearing is better than a dog’s. And a cat can hear high-frequency sounds up to two octaves higher than a human.
so I guess that cat really wanted to get hit. I mean I feel terrible I didn't see him! Good to know he could hear my agony as it happened.
Cats bury their feces to cover their trails from predators.