A Series of Unfortunate Events

My youngest sister probably quivered in excitement at the mere sight of the title of this post. Daniel Handler – under the pseudonym Lemony Snicket – penned a series of the same name, detailing the unfortunate exploits of the Baudelaire children and the evil intentions of their distant cousin Count Olaf. We both enjoyed reading the childhood series, but she loved it even more than I.

I hadn't thought much about the series until this week. I don't put much stock in luck or fortune, but the series of events the last two days have been less than fortunate. It all started with an alarm...




I didn't feel well on Monday night, so I opted to go to bed and set an early alarm in order to study before class. In an honest attempt to be a good and responsible student, I even moved the clock two full arm-lengths from my bed in order to thwart any chance of arm-flailing snoozes from the comfort of my fur-blanketed bed.

I awoke to alarm beeps, feeling rejuvenated and much better after my extended nap. I reached over to silence the alarm, but realized mine wasn't the one sounding. I sat up with a start. My roommate's alarm, set for 8:00 a.m., was beeping – and my class starts at 8:30 a.m. Skip a shower, wolf down some toast, pack a lunch – throw out a half-made sandwich after discovery of rancid fillings – out the door, and to class with -30 seconds to spare (the teacher started late).

I felt gross all day, and hurried back to my apartment to freshen up a bit after classes. As I turned on the water to rinse the facewash off, the faucet gurgled and sputtered and began belching brown water, whining ever so terribly. I texted my roommate for an update – a neighboring apartment had complained of no hot water, so the water to our apartment had been turned off. Ugh. I smeared the soap from my face with a towel, unable to completely remove the filmy goop.

The next morning, the water was still turned off in our apartment, so I gathered my shower items and trekked over to the campus pool locker rooms, donning a swimsuit for the sole purpose of showering. For the morning's classes, I left my swimsuit and shower things in an empty locker rather than leave wet garments in my car to grow dank. When I returned after lunch, Locker #85's door was wide open, absolutely vacant, with no swimsuit or sweatshirt or comb or shower items left inside – a seafoam green abyss. I checked the locker number. I checked the adjacent lockers. I looked on top of the locker, beside the locker... in ALL the lockers in the room. I called lost-and-found. I spoke with pool staff.

I took off across campus, fuming to myself and thinking all sorts of woe-is-me thoughts. I strode quickly, my faux-suede shoes pounding on the sidewalk, blindly walking with no direction or purpose except to be angry, and frustrated, and a little bit sad.


A series of unfortunate events. If only I hadn't mistakenly set my alarm for P.M. rather than A.M. If only I'd had time to shower that morning. If only I hadn't left my items in the locker. If only that person hadn't stolen them.

A series of unfortunate events... but then something changed. No, the skies didn't rain sweatshirts and shampoo to replace what had been taken, nor did my bag of items show up on my doorstep. The water didn't come back on for three days, and I still haven't gotten to wash my face since my facewash was stashed in the locker. My luck didn't change, but my attitude toward the misfortune somehow did.

Every time I see a classmate wearing a grey sweatshirt with "AU Doctor of Physical Therapy Class of 2014" emblazoned across the front, there's a twinge of remorse that I won't again wear my matching hoodie, with my name printed on the back. I really like that hoodie - it's a statement: "Hey, world, look! I'm going to be a professional clinician, a person who can solve your problems and heal your woes! I'm going to be a DOCTOR of Physical Therapy. Hold me in awe!!!"
It's a bit shameful, but that's what that hoodie was becoming to me; a statement of pride. And losing it because of a naïve mistake of trusting others to be as honest as I was very humbling. Painfully humbling.

If I ever get the privilege of seeing an individual wearing an AU DPT 2014 hoodie with STOTZ in bold white letters across the shoulders, I'll be sure to welcome them to the family. I'll be happy to have been given the opportunity to share one of my too-many sweatshirts with someone who, perhaps, truly needed it. Not as a statement of pride, but a garment to preserve pride, to provide for a necessity without necessitating a debased request for assistance.

Life is all too often focused on stuff. Stuff we like, stuff we want, stuff we "need". Stuff that makes us comfortable, stuff that makes us feel important. Stuff that shows off how cool we are, how smart we are, or how telecommunicationally up-to-date we are.

Maybe it's time for a new series of events. Maybe it's time to wake up and to stop focusing on stuff. I'm taking this week, this series of unfortunate events, as my wake-up call, my lifestyle alarm clock.
It all started with an alarm.