Yesterday I was having a day, you guys.

I was on edge and pretty raw and I was just trying to make it through my Monday.

I decided to go out for a walk to get some soup at lunch time because who doesn’t love soup on a cold winter’s day when they are feeling blue? I ask you.

On my walk back to the office, I felt a little bit of heat coming from the bag and noticed some tomato soup was leaking through the paper.

JUST A TINY LEAK, I thought. NO PROBLEM.

And just as I thought that, the heat quadrupled in intensity, the soup pouring out of its container (turns out the lid wasn’t on properly), causing the paper bag to dampen and then quickly rip apart and that is how boiling hot tomato goop splattered on my hand (OW), down my coat, onto my boots and finally exploded on the sidewalk.

Well, I thought. This is something.

I didn’t know what else to do so I just kind of leaned down close to the sidewalk and looked at it.

I had only carried my wallet with me so I didn’t have access to any napkins or paper or anything I would normally have in my bag. I noticed soup on my iPod which I had been holding in my other hand, in the middle of changing a song. I felt paralyzed by the fact that I needed to clean myself up but everything had soup on it and I was in the middle of the sidewalk so I just squatted close to the ground and stayed there, thinking as kids do that maybe if I closed my eyes, no one would be able to see me. I also hoped that the concrete would somehow open up and swallow me whole because honestly, this is my life right now? Plus I am so hungry and that soup smells SO GOOD!? DARE I LICK IT OFF THE PAVEMENT?

Ugh, decisions.

I wasn’t squatting in the middle of Broadway for long before three people came to my aid.

Helper #1 – A young man who offered me a plastic bag from his backpack.

I took it from him and said thanks and then we both awkwardly stared at it because…what should we do with it?

We decided we should take the sopping wet paper bag and the soup container and put it in the plastic bag and throw it out.

“Okay…BYE!” he said abruptly and ran off.

Helper #2 – A girl who offered to run into a deli and get me napkins.

Helper #3 – A random elderly Italian man who handed me a handful of tissues and loudly yelled WIPE YOURSELF WIPE YOURSELF!

He was very intimidating so I obediently pawed at my coat with his tissues but the tissues quickly came apart so instead of tomato soup on my coat, I then had tomato soup mixed with remnants of tissue which was a fierce fashion statement, let me tell YOU.

I pondered cleaning up the puddle of soup for a second (with poor quality TISSUES? What was I thinking?!) but the Italian read my mind and told me to leave the soup on the sidewalk and not worry about that.

THE RAIN WILL WASH! THE RAIN WILL WASH!

Yes. The rain will wash. Whenever the rain shows up. (Not today.)

While all of this was going on, no one else dared approach me and I think it’s because no one was quite sure what happened. Did I spill something? Or did I violently vomit up my lunch? No one knew for sure.

The girl finally came running back from the deli with a handful of napkins. She was SO sweet and wanted to know if she could help in any other way. I wanted to be like uh, be my friend sometime? But instead smiled and said no thanks, I’m okay, just having a day! HA HA SOUP IS EVERYWHERE, CRAZY RIGHT?

I wiped down what I could and figured I’d deal with the rest when I got back to my office.

Then I realized I didn’t have my lunch. Except on my coat. Which would not help with my hunger problem.

I wondered if the place I bought the soup from would replace it, considering the lid was not secure. If I ask them, does that make me entitled? But surely I had a point! I regretted tossing the soup container and the bag in the garbage.

HOW WOULD THEY KNOW I WAS TELLING THE TRUTH? WHERE WAS THE PROOF?

I decided to keep the handful of tomato-soaked napkins and my burnt right hand to show them.

I walked the two blocks back to the store and the girl behind the counter looked startled when she saw me. I realized my fistful of napkins looked a little…murderish.

“Um,” I said in this trying-too-hard voice I have that I hate. “I was just in here? And I don’t think the soup was securely fastened.”

SECURELY FASTENED? I realized I was borrowing lingo from the flight attendant on my plane to DC the day before.

“Um, I mean. The lid wasn’t on? I don’t think? Because it just exploded on me on the sidewalk.”

I held out my napkins.

“Here is my proof.”

“OH MY GOD!” exclaimed the manager. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said. “I was just wondering if I could have more soup?”

Please, ma’am, I want some more.

EVEN AFTER IT VERY NEARLY KILLED ME! I AM STILL BEGGING FOR MY SOUP.

(The soup smelled real good.)

She kept freaking out which was confusing to me because it really wasn’t a huge deal. These things happen. (To me.)

“CAN I GET YOU ANYTHING ELSE?!” she kept asking.

“LET ME TAKE YOUR NAME AND NUMBER!”

My name and number? Um. Okay! But I’m really fine!

She asked if I wanted to wash my hand off. Did I need a napkin? A wet towel? A band-aid?

Nope, just my soup.

“ANYTHING ELSE? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU SURE?”

And this whole time, I was stuffing down this feeling of embarrassment, that I had dropped my lunch on the sidewalk, that I would be walking around smelling like tomato soup for the rest of the day, that I had stained my skirt and made a mess in public, that lots of people saw me. That I was hungry and tired and really just wanted to get back to my office and sit at my desk and not talk to anyone the rest of the day.

So, when the manager finally asked, “How about a cookie?” I meekly offered an, “Okay?” and promptly burst into tears.

“Chocolate chip?” she asked.

“Yes, please, that would be so great.”

A man packed me some more soup with extra crackers and the manager wrapped up a chocolate chip cookie and placed it inside the bag.

“Have a better day!” she said.

Oh, lady.

I’m gonna try.