perspective
I have elephant-thick fingernails and toenails which is both a blessing and a curse. Last night I stubbed my left big toe on the couch. Somewhat like a baby elephant, I'm naturally clumsy so that was not unusual in itself. It didn't hurt but when I removed my sock to check the damage, I discovered that the impact had knocked the nail clean off. It still doesn't hurt but it sure is ugly - and just in time for sandal season, which doesn't make me near as excited to go shoe shopping tomorrow. Superfreaky!
This morning when the alarm when off I kept trying to reach back to the headboard to turn it off - a) I don't have a headboard and b) the alarm clock is clear on the other side of the room. Also superfreaky.
I woke up briefly in the middle of the night thinking about Greg, the missing toenail and Renée, in that order. Renée is Rob's wife in the memoir Love is a Mix Tape, the couple whose relationship was cemented by a shared love of music, pinball, and each other. The Mother's Day of the fifth year of their marriage he was in the kitchen preparing her favorite cinnamon toast when she suddenly collapsed and instantly died while in the process of sewing a new dress. Pulmonary embolism - a blood clot - was determined to be the cause. The rest of the book (which I haven't quite finished yet) takes him through the grieving process.
I knew I would have to relearn how to listen to music, and that some of the music we'd loved together I'd never be able to hear again. Every time I started to cry, I remembered how Renée used to say real life was a bad country song, expect bad country songs are believable and real life isn't. Everybody knows what it's like to drive while crying; feeling like a bad country song is part of why it sucks. There was an empty house on the other side of this drive, and I had no idea what it would be like to try to go inside it. There was nobody there. I wasn't driving home - just back. (p. 149)
Makes a broken toenail seem like extremely small potatoes.
This morning when the alarm when off I kept trying to reach back to the headboard to turn it off - a) I don't have a headboard and b) the alarm clock is clear on the other side of the room. Also superfreaky.
I woke up briefly in the middle of the night thinking about Greg, the missing toenail and Renée, in that order. Renée is Rob's wife in the memoir Love is a Mix Tape, the couple whose relationship was cemented by a shared love of music, pinball, and each other. The Mother's Day of the fifth year of their marriage he was in the kitchen preparing her favorite cinnamon toast when she suddenly collapsed and instantly died while in the process of sewing a new dress. Pulmonary embolism - a blood clot - was determined to be the cause. The rest of the book (which I haven't quite finished yet) takes him through the grieving process.
I knew I would have to relearn how to listen to music, and that some of the music we'd loved together I'd never be able to hear again. Every time I started to cry, I remembered how Renée used to say real life was a bad country song, expect bad country songs are believable and real life isn't. Everybody knows what it's like to drive while crying; feeling like a bad country song is part of why it sucks. There was an empty house on the other side of this drive, and I had no idea what it would be like to try to go inside it. There was nobody there. I wasn't driving home - just back. (p. 149)
Makes a broken toenail seem like extremely small potatoes.