I always follow doctor’s orders. For example, after my braces were removed, my orthodontist told me to wear my retainer every night. That was 42 years ago and I’m still wearing the friggin’ thing. My husband says it’s like going to be with a prize fighter. So when my doctor told to get a certain unpleasant test—I did it. You all know what I’m talking about, the dreaded colonoscopy.
In bed last night I felt an overwhelming need. I turned to my husband and said, “Honey, I need—chocolate.” An earlier foraging mission revealed the kitchen was bare, not even a pair of half-nibbled rabbit ears left over from Easter. “Would you do an emergency run?”
What I find difficult is the forced familiarity. I know things about my neighbors that strangers should not know about each other, things that should only be shared after a late-night Jacuzzi session with three or four mojitos.
Making excuses is not one of my shortcomings; actually I’m quite good at it. My excuses are not the impossible-to-prove, dog-ate-my-homework variety; mine are unimpeachable exonerations that include indisputable proof. Continue reading “Excuses, Excuses”
In Trader Joe’s parking lot, I’d just gotten out of my car and was headed for my trunk to get my shopping bags when I noticed a truck pulling out opposite me. To be courteous, I stood beside my car and waited for the truck to back up. And waited. And waited. When the vehicle finally maneuvered out of the parking place, the driver rolled down her window and yelled, “Don’t give me that look. I know how to drive!” Continue reading “She’s Got the Look”
Calling my first house a fixer-upper puts too nice a spin on it. Besides being a dump, it had been decorated by Bad Taste, Inc. But I wasn’t complaining. The faux knotty-pine dinning room paneling, the gold-vein mirror tiled bedroom, and the blue cow living room wallpaper were the reason the house sold way below market.
I live with four men, a red tabby, a gray long hair, a brown Abyssinian, and a black and white short hair. This guarantees that no matter what I wear, cat hair will be the dominant color. Statement jewelry is so last year; at the House of Felis Domesticus, cat hair is the new must-have accessory. And it’s not a bad thing; it’s simply the price of feline fellowship, like finding a cat hair in your coffee. It’s amazing how one little cat hair in your mouth feels like the Trans-Atlantic cable.