pusillanimous

pusillanimous

\ pyoo-suh-LAN-uh-muhs \  , adjective;

1.Lacking in courage and resolution; contemptibly fearful; cowardly.

 

Today I saw a man wearing a t-shirt that stated "Pain is weakness leaving the body." I punched him and told him he was a stronger person. Then I ran, because that's assault. And nobody wants to have to deal with an assault case, especially at work on dress-casual Friday. I also ran because when push comes to shove, I am a coward.


I've always wondered how I would react if put into a dangerous situation. Unfortunately I found out a few months ago.

It's important to understand the lock on my apartment door does not function properly. The way I see it a lock has one duty. To lock. My lock does not live up to these expectations. In fact to call it a lock is very misleading, as it's name is precisely the thing it does not do. Perhaps my lock is having some sort of teenage identity crisis and can't figure out whether it wants to be a lock at all, which is fine. We all need room to grow, even inanimate locks, but if the lock ever tries to read me any of it's angst ridden poetry I'm just going to replace it. Without getting into too much detail about why I was sprinting into my apartment I'll tell you that I didn't focus on the door/lock situation. Let's just say my body knows exactly when I am 10 minutes away from home and sends a message to my brain stating we have to use the toilet RIGHT NOW. After slamming into the front door like a linebacker and taking care of the necessary actions I continued with my evening in the way I typically do; yoga exercises, meditation, and youtube videos of people fighting bears.

After my desire to watch people fist fight wild animals is satiated it usually means it's about time for bed. Everyone has a bed time ritual. There are certain things I need to do before going to bed to allow myself to sleep properly. Some people brush their teeth, other people check and make sure the stove isn't still on.

If you're anything like me you throw on a pair of footie pajamas, shot gun a beer and spank yourself on the ass. Then you point at the sky like you just scored a touchdown and shout out thanks to God. You're not thanking him for the spank on the ass, you're just thanking him for things in general. You have to go with what works for you. One thing I don't do is check to make sure my front door is locked, which in hindsight is not the best decision. Particularly when it comes to crime prevention.

Roughly around 2 am my front door BANGS open. I snap awake, my heart racing, thinking they've found me.* Then, silence. Here is where I should leap from my bed, grab a table lamp, and verbally abuse my would be attackers until they are shamed into leaving. "What are you doing with your lives!" I would shout. "This is no way to live, what would your mothers think!?" And then WHACK them on the head with the table lamp. After the table lamp has broken from the force with which I brandish it I would remove the dry erase board from my wall and, stating a good piece of advice with which the intruders will later use to turn their lives around, I would SMASH the dry erase board over the second intruders head, comically leaving him unable to move his arms as the dry erase board hugs them to his side. Then I would sit them both down on the couch, the first robber tied up with the lamp cord and the second robber still unable to move his upper body. And I would rob them. Because I have many dreams, and one of them is to rob anyone who tries to rob me.

I did not do any of the above mentioned things. What I actually did was allow my body to go completely rigid and lay in my bed, stiff as a board. My eyes were stuck wide open, and I noticed things about my ceiling that I never noticed before. There are a few moments of silence, then footsteps. I assume I am going to die and reposition myself on my stomach and in a sleeping position so when they find my cold body they will think I died in my sleep, instead of just laying there like a wimp. I may be a coward but I certainly know how to plan ahead. I wonder how they are going to do me in. I hope it wouldn't be with an object they found in my own apartment. There is just something depressing about the thought of being beaten to death with a picture frame I was so happy to purchase the week before. Not only that, but it seems unprofessional for a murderous burglar to use something he (or she, if women can vote then they can murder too) finds at the scene of the crime. it's kind of like saying "You know? I want to rob and kill somebody tonight, but I don't feel like packing my bag, ah well, I'll just find something there I guess."

Then I heard it.

Giggling.

There was a drunk giggling girl in my hallway. Given, my body still remained rigid as a board. I am just as intimidated by thieves as I am of drunk giggling girls (I am very shy) so I stayed in bed, not wanting to go out there saying something awkward and make a fool of myself.** There were a few more footsteps and then an "Oh!". I'm assuming the "Oh!" was her verbal expression of "This isn't my apartment. Welp! Gotta go!" Because right afterwards I heard her stumbling out of my apartment.

She didn't even close the door behind her. Which I felt was very impolite.

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*Remind me to tell you about the ferret smuggling racket that fell through a few years ago. Long story short there are a few Uzbekistani nationalists very upset over a matter of 37 ferrets.

**So? Stumble in here drunk often?