Mentally, I was prepared for a very productive week.
My productivity lasted until I woke up on Monday.
Monday morning got off to a very bad start.
Mocha, my chocolate lab, came to wake me up.
My dog, acting as an alarm clock, isn’t unusual but there was a series of unexpected events after she showed up.
The series of unexpected events ended with my arm popping off my body.
I can’t tell you how much I hate it when my arm pops off.
There was a sickening sound, the nauseating sensation of an unconnected arm,
And, of course, a lot of pain.
It ruins my whole day when my arm pops off.
I texted Paul Newman and told him my arm had popped off.
avoiding me busy lately so I didn’t hear back from him until the end of the day.
He asked what I was doing when it popped off.
“It’s kind of a long story. I was in bed ….”
“Say no more. I get it.”
I’ll let him think there’s a better story to go with my popped off arm than there really is.
A short while later, when I was brushing my teeth,
I noticed something odd about my mustache.
I shouldn’t have worried because it was just a large, extraordinarily ugly, pimple parting my mustache hairs.
You know, directly under a nostril where it could wave to anyone who talks to me.
I decided to discard my previous photography plans for the day since my arm was no longer attached to my body.
Instead, I got dressed and made a trip to the grocery store.
I’ve been wanting to make this recipe from the latest issue of Bon Appetit.
I was pretty sure I could still make it with only one arm attached to my body.
A quick stop into our closest Whole Foods was in order.
Of course, I forgot our Whole Foods is a hangout for beautiful people looking for other beautiful people.
I felt self conscious the minute I walked in wearing hole-y yoga pants and old flip flops.
I tried to quickly gather the three ingredients I needed.
As I stood in line to pay, I noticed I had a super attractive male cashier.
Dark, curly hair ….
A white, bright, bleached-teeth, perfect smile.
I reminded myself it would be very cougar-ish of me to notice a 20-something, right?
He kept staring at me.
And staring at me.
I realized he was trying to figure out what was waving at him from beneath my mustache hairs.
I paid him and scampered out of the store as fast as I could.
I knew, right then, I’d spend the remainder of the day working at home.
P.S. The recipe was fantastic and I don’t even like pork. I’ll try to post it sometime in the next week because I know sometimes clicking on a link takes too much effort.
P.P.S. Paul Newman and I are spending the morning together. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to love him pushing my arm back in place.