underestimation

I should have known. I should have seen it coming. But I was mislead, tricked by the cute little cars strung together.

I had underestimated it, snickered at the sign that told me to rest my head against the headrest back while the ride “launched” me.

Launched. Yeah right.

I rolled my eyes at the people on the ride in front of me who screamed as it took off. Lightweights.

I thought it was going to be a fun, kiddish ride.

I was so very wrong.

It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion. I mean, it was a roller coaster ride with baby Mini Coopers strung together. You don’t look at a Mini Cooper ride and think “oh yeah, this is going to be intense.”

But they weren’t kidding when they said “launched.” That ride rocketed us like projectile vomit. And it only got worse.

This theme park rated their rides on a scale from 1 (aka merry-go-round) to 5. If I had checked the brochure, it would have told me these cute little cars had earned a 5, ie “extreme thrill ride.”

Whoops.

I had taken it at what I presumed was face value. I looked at the little cars and thought “how cute; this will be a nice, easy-going ride.”

I should have known. I’ve been underestimated too. People look at me and make assumptions about who I am and what I can do. (Of course, that’s assuming they see me at all. I’m quite good at being invisible.)

I’m getting better, though, at letting people see who I am from the start, at being unafraid to show my personality.

But I underestimate more than just rides; I underestimate people too, sometimes. I rely too much on what I can see and not enough on potential. And other times I overestimate people, but I’d rather assume good than bad. Sure, if you assume the worst, you’ll be protected against disappointment, but what kind of life is that? It might be a risk, but I’d rather think well of people.

Maybe not of roller coasters, though. I’m going to be suspicious of them for the rest of my life.

 

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of mysteries and unexplained phenomena

When you buy a house, you acquire a number of mysteries. I’m not talking about doors closing on their own or thumps in the night or unclaimed boxes in the attic. No, our house mystery came in the form of a single light switch.

Light switches themselves are not mysterious. Flip the switch, a light turns on. Not complicated. (Assuming you have enough bulbs.)

Except this switch–a switch in our bedroom that didn’t seem to control anything in our bedroom, oddly enough. We joked, as we flipped it on and off repeatedly, that somewhere a light was flashing like an S-O-S signal. Or maybe a garage door was flying up and down. Who knew? Not us, clearly.

What was even more baffling was that it was a 3-way, meaning somewhere, presumably, another switch controlled the same thing. But we couldn’t figure it out. So we shrugged it off as one of those things, one of those mysteries that you acquire.

Until…

(You know every good story has an “until.”)

Just a few days ago, my husband was playing with the light switches in the kitchen, noting which ones turned on which deck lights. And then he noticed… one of them was a 3-way.

I bolted upstairs to flip the mystery switch. (Thankfully, my husband knew what I was doing, instead of assuming I had lost my mind.)

Yes, ladies and gents, for some reason unknown to me (or probably any architect or builder) our bedroom contains a light switch for the deck. Why we would need to see the deck in the darkness from our bathroom windows, I’m not entirely sure. But there it is.

The mystery of the light switch? Solved.

On to the next….

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