A humorous look back at Mo’s subsequent week.
“Brunch was awesome. You guys gotta do that more often!”
I concur with the statement that brunch was awesome. Everyone was perfect and I didn’t stress out too much (considering that Mom brought the carnitas and scrambled the eggs.—Thank you, Mom.)
And while it was perfect, it was also…perfect-er…for the fact that it was on the 6th because my week following was not.
Let me explain, I spend most of my time on the patio in the backyard. -See photo above, wouldn’t you?- But apparently, the teeny, tiny no-see-ums have found my legs delicious. To the point of ravaged. I thought the little red bumps on my calves were from stress or some awful thing Robert picked up from Bangkok that one time (just kidding), but I’m pretty sure it’s got to be something less sinister, more reasonable, and more common. So, I’m going with tiny, ravenous assholes that saw me coming a mile away then told their friends who also came and chewed on my legs, and hands, in the likes I have not seen since visiting the fucking Amazon jungle.
Distressing, sure, but not as distressing as the HUGE, not exaggerating HUGE, spider bites I also just acquired. The bites are so big you can actually see them through my pants. I wish I were kidding but I’m not.
Speaking of pants, Robert’s backyard is not a veritable zoo of horrifying animals begging to gain entrance to the smorgasbord that are my legs. It’s a normal backyard on a canyon in San Diego. Nothing really to worry about. It’s really only because when you sit outside at dusk wearing nothing but a tank top, paper-thin yoga pants and flip-flops, you’re asking for it. It’s my own damn fault.
It’s pretty gross, nonetheless.
But, if that were the only thing wrong with me.
As I was finally getting down to do the mountain of dishes acquired from that awesome brunch…some time on Monday… even though we ate off paper plates and Mom did all the real cooking…I was washing Robert’s special, super sharp, extra angry-looking chef’s knife which then fell onto my other hand and sliced my left index finger to the bone.
Having spent all day at the doctor for something else entirely that I won’t get into, I didn’t let him take me to the hospital. I really don’t have much need for feeling in that finger and can now adequately jam it into corners and dressers as I usually do without much thought. So far, it has stayed a healthy pink color and not turning any other shade of puce or violet. I’ll keep you informed. I’m already telling you all of this other stuff so it’s really no problem. I’m sure you’re stoked.
After cleaning up my cat’s -ahem- regurgitation for the 700th time, I threw out my shoulder aggravating an old work-strain caused by them not giving me the proper-sized desk, ever. I know they caused it because they are Satan’s minions and deserve every bad credit I can blame them for.
Then I dropped my laptop on my foot.
So, to illustrate, I’ve included a picture to show the various places I have hurt myself over the past week.
This picture isn’t recent but from over a year ago when I was embarrassing Robert at the Embarcadero. The lovely, green Navy man was very accommodating as he had just come back from knocking the Nazis back to Germany and had been at sea for many months. The injury on my wrist is from the carpal tunnel I had for 6 months on my right hand which has healed in time for me to climb this injury-ladder so successfully.
If you can’t see the picture clearly, it’s because of how many captions I had to put on the picture to point out the injuries. And it doesn’t even cover them all, but there it is in a little dented nutshell.
I don’t know if my little adventure story is worthy of pity or praise.
It’s true I am the klutziest person I currently know and maybe I should be sad about that; ironic, as I was once a gifted ballerina. Or if I should be praised for my incredible wherewithal. The fact that I can continue to have such a sunny—Shut up, Bob—attitude in the face of all this tragic crippling is almost heroic. Not actually doing something heroic-heroic but more like not-really-whining-too-much heroic.
So, again, thank you for coming to brunch at Robert’s and my house and for the lovely gifts. I’m so happy it turned out so great and I’m especially happy that it took place on the 6th instead of today. It would’ve been hard, even with you—my family—and your forgiving nature, to host a brunch holding my shoulder, limping, wearing one left glove like a dollar-store Michael Jackson Halloween costume, and covered in Calamine lotion.
Though, I don’t think the Navy guy would mind.
Thank you again! I hope to see you all soon. Relatively healthy.