A Lesson in Literary Conflict

One of our first literature lessons this year focused on conflict. Conflict, as I'm sure you are aware, is a vital element in the plot of any narrative. The kidlets and I spent a great deal of time discussing varieties of external and internal conflicts, including person vs. self, person vs. person, and person vs. nature. The kidlets didn't have any trouble at all with the first two types of literary conflict, but the last one, person vs. nature, threw them for a loop. "How on Earth could there be any kind of conflict between people and Mother Nature?" they wanted to know. "Nature is beautiful," they said. "Nature is peaceful," they said. "You apparently haven't seen any recent pictures of Galveston," I said. I hated to be the one to do it, but someone had to let them know about the real nature of Mother Nature. So I told them about the documentary that I love to hate, Grizzly Man. "See that guy in the do-rag and sun glasses?" I would tell the kidlets. "He loved nature. More specifically, he loved bears. So he would move to Alaska every summer to hang out with the bears and to protect them from poachers. 'I'm the bear's brother,' he would say to the camera as he filmed his life among the grizzles. 'The bears love me,' he said." Then I shot the kidlets my most serious look and added"They did love him, kids. They loved him FOR BREAKFAST! See that bear behind him? The one that he named and protected and loved? It ate him, kids. It totally ate him. And then it ate the dude's girlfriend for dessert." My point: Mother Nature is a serial killer. Sure, it might have been kind of a harsh line to take with the 7th graders, and maybe it wasn't my place to break that kind of news to them. I do leave it to the parents to have the "Santa" talk with them, and I wouldn't dream about crossing the tooth fairy line, either. But come on. Santa and the Tooth Fairy aren't going to try to eat them on their next family camping trip. Mother Nature, on the other hand, sees 7th graders as crunchy snacks that taste good with ketchup.
Every time they walk out of their houses, Mother Nature starts thinking up ways to do them in.
Seriously. This cow? Sure, it looks like a nice passive member of a Beatles tribute band, but deep down it is fighting a natural desire to turn the person holding the camera into a shishkabob. Of course, Mother Nature isn't always so obvious in her homicidal endeavors. She has been trying to kill me for the past four years using her most subtle minion, her trusty henchman who appears to be not only "safe", but "helpful" and even "necessary for life." Yes, Mother Nature is trying to kill me with...water This is my car. Her name is Bling (Well, actually her full name is "Bling Bling" but we call her "Bling" for short) Every night from spring to summer to fall, she is assailed by hard water from the sprinklers. This may seem innocent to you, you poor naive blog reader, but that sprinkler is laying the ground work for my eventual death in a fiery car crash.
You see, the hard water from the sprinklers coats the windows of my car, making it difficult for me to see where I am going as I drive.
I've tried vinegar, but all it succeeded in doing was making my car smell like an Easter egg. A giant, hard-water-spot-covered Easter egg. I've tried expensive hard-water removal products, and they would help for a while...a short while until the blasted sprinklers struck again.

And so it would go, the vicious cycle of hard water stained windows.

Or so it went until last week when Mother Nature apparently got impatient and decided to speed things up by having the water launch a surprise attack.

I was walking out to my car at 5:55 a.m. last Friday, feeling pretty pleased with myself for making it out of the house with enough time to make it to my early morning institute class without having to run from the parking lot to the classroom.

It was dark. Very dark.

I heard a sound behind me. A blood curdling sound. The sound of a sprinkler head popping up and turning on.

I tried to run, but it was too late. I had been hit. The sprinkler got me...right in the backside.

Mother Nature had apparently amended her plan to kill me via water by putting me in a situation where I would die of embarrassment. I had to walk into institute with a wet behind.
A behind so wet that, when I stood up at the end of class an hour later, my pants were STILL WET and there was a puddle in the chair. A PUDDLE, PEOPLE! After trying to back my way out of institute, I went directly to school where I was almost late for a 7:30 a.m. meeting. A meeting that I backed into. And when the meeting ended 35 minutes later? Yep.
Wet pants.
Wet chair.
Fortunately for me, I have been embarrassed enough over the course of my life that I have built up a tolerance for death-inducing humiliation. As I went through the rest of the morning (with a still-damp backside) I could almost hear Mother Nature's bitter sighs, "Curses! Foiled again!" But I'm not going to let my guard down. We have a branch activity on Saturday up in Mother Nature's home turf. But I'll be ready for her this time. I'm bringing TWO pairs of pants.

Oh, and I'm not planning on leaving the car. At all.

This is one Person Vs. Nature Conflict that is going to have a happy ending.

Happy for me. Not the bears.