Don't let the sun go down on me

I had an early start this morning, as I wanted to go the “centre bronzage” to get a bit of colour on my milky skin before going to India. It had to be a quickie, because I had promised my mom I would take her out to lunch and do some shopping. So the plan was to run to the centre, which is just around the corner, run back home, and jump in the car.
I stumbled down the stairs, through our frontdoor, and bingo : once again there was a white van blocking our garage. Luckily, there was also a police van, parked just 5 metres away. So I walked up to them and explained my little problem. As usual, the moment they realised I was Dutch-speaking, I got the VIP-treatment (as most cops in Brussels are Dutch-speaking, and it simply feels the same as meeting someone from your hometown when you’re abroad).
The van was moved under exaggerated police-supervision, and although my plan was to run to the centre around the corner, I didn’t dare anything else than take the car out of the garage, and drive away with it. Only to park it just behind the corner.

Arriving at the “centre bronzage”, I was already sweating even before hitting the sunbed. But I thought : ok, nice, let’s relax now for 10 minutes. All was going well, until the moment my tan-session ended, and I opened the sunbed. The thick plastic plate, covering the lamps of the upper part, came loose, and fell BOOM-BANG on me! Apparently, it was all causing a lot of noise (yes, I screamed as well), and the girl came rushing to the cabin. “Madame, are you ok???!!” Well, no. The plate had fallen with its sharp edge right on the side of my head, leaving me with a terrible headache. But what could I do, as I was standing there…stark naked? So I put on the bare essentials, and opened the door. The girl was simply in shock to find the sunbed partly disassembled, and started a torrent of excuses. “This had never happened during the five years she worked at the center “ (right, and I had to be the first), “and she would immediately give me my money back” (this was the very least I’d expected).

So I stumbled to my car, my head throbbing harder and harder, driving to my mom. By the time I arrived, two nice big bumps were forming where the plastic plate had hit me. “You immediately have to put something cold against it!” went my mom, and placed the frozen minced meat for tonight’s spaghetti saus against my head. After two hours of minced meat induced cold, the bumps were slowly disappearing. Right now, it still hurts, but at least it’s not that visible anymore. And the spaghetti tasted just fine. Don’t ask me if I have a nice tan.