This just doesn't seem to be my day.
Jimmy's poison oak is bad. According to WebMD, he's having an allergic reaction. I came home this morning to discover that the area behind his right knee is skinless and weeping. It hurts more when he stands up and moves, and we were both hungry, so I went to make breakfast. He asked for the refrigerator cinnamon rolls, which we have, but I figured that wouldn't be enough for me, and if he hadn't eaten anything since the night before ... so I made him an omelet: the remainder of the "taco soup," (which my sister calls "chili" and who can blame her?), bacon, and mozzarella cheese. And three little cinnamon rolls. A perfect Jimmy breakfast, served to him in bed. He was bowled over, told me how good it was, how I had to make one for myself. Which had been my intention all along, but I wanted to get his to him while it was all still hot.
I returned to the kitchen, washed up some of the dishes as my omelet cooked. Used the last of the "chili" for the filling. Feeling quite virtuous and happy with myself, I returned here to the bedroom to eat it at the computer and keep my sweetie company. I took three bites, and somehow I miscalculated the location of the edge of the desk vs. the edge of the dish and flipped the whole thing. It went 2/3 on the floor and 1/3 on my lap/the chair. Somehow, I managed not to cry, "Why God, WHY?!"
My sweetie, who I was trying to spare the trauma of having to get up, had to jump up and bring towels and bleach wipes and carpet cleaner and generally play disaster coordinator. Fortunately I was only reading, so the keyboard was still tucked under the edge of the desk and is undamaged. After setting things more or less to rights in here, I finally resumed eating the couple of remaining bites of omelet clinging to the plate. Which by now was stone cold, and in my very first bite, what do I find? A sizeable piece of eggshell.
I'm thinking about calling off tonight. Clearly, I'm a danger to myself and others.
I returned to the kitchen, washed up some of the dishes as my omelet cooked. Used the last of the "chili" for the filling. Feeling quite virtuous and happy with myself, I returned here to the bedroom to eat it at the computer and keep my sweetie company. I took three bites, and somehow I miscalculated the location of the edge of the desk vs. the edge of the dish and flipped the whole thing. It went 2/3 on the floor and 1/3 on my lap/the chair. Somehow, I managed not to cry, "Why God, WHY?!"
My sweetie, who I was trying to spare the trauma of having to get up, had to jump up and bring towels and bleach wipes and carpet cleaner and generally play disaster coordinator. Fortunately I was only reading, so the keyboard was still tucked under the edge of the desk and is undamaged. After setting things more or less to rights in here, I finally resumed eating the couple of remaining bites of omelet clinging to the plate. Which by now was stone cold, and in my very first bite, what do I find? A sizeable piece of eggshell.
I'm thinking about calling off tonight. Clearly, I'm a danger to myself and others.