Today my eyes look puffy and red and feel weak. (The light hurts. The monitor is burning a hole through my retinas as I write.) Today my lips are swollen and lined (along the inside) with tiny yet incredibly painful sores.
I have no idea why this is, though I suspect some horrible, hitherto unknown disease which they will no doubt name after my doctor instead of me.
Because that’s the way shit happens.
Today one son ran out of gas on a quite busy highway (“The gage was at a quarter tank, then wham it went down to empty.”) After walking a mile to a gas station (“Buttheads wanted to sell me this little tiny gas can for twenty-four bucks! I said ****** that!”), then another mile to a Walmart (“Got a bigger can for twelve,”) he walked to a second gas station, then back to the car.
Which is why he forgot to stop at the store and buy zucchini for dinner.
Note: I cannot remember ever actually having to buy zucchini before. Zucchini is the dandelion of garden veg. It grows in enormous clusters. People make bread and noodles out of it. People give it away by the armload. No one actually buys it.
With actual money.
Every one of our squash plants died this year, though evidently we have a bumper crop of ghost peppers. Sadly I don’t enjoy them sautéed with olive oil, garlic, and pepper.
Today Kringle (one of our dogs) barks at me every time she sees me.
I step out of the bedroom, she barks.
I step out of the bathroom, she barks.
I’m sitting on the couch, she walks in, looks at me: barks.
I suspect she is barking at my aura, perhaps its color is unusual; I have felt a bit off today. Or maybe there’s a spirit of some sort hovering just above and behind my shoulder (either the right one or the left. I’m uncertain which shoulder she’s barking at and which would signify what.) Or (and I think this the most likely reason) she doesn’t recognize me because of my puffy red eyes and swollen painful lips.
At any rate at this point I’m seriously contemplating having her barker removed. Which I have heard is an inhumane thing to do; an opinion I’ve always agreed with until today.
Obviously humane people’s dogs don’t constantly bark at them for no evident reason.
After my son who ran out of gas finally arrived home (zucchini-less) he ate dinner and went to his younger brother’s baseball game where he discovered a wasp in his pants which took six smashes to kill.
He figures it isn’t his day.
My youngest son’s team lost the game, though he pitched three faultless innings. This seems to happen quite often. I don’t understand why.
Honestly I don’t understand baseball, despite having sat through six years of both spring and fall seasons. (And yes I paused just now to count them up on my fingers.) I’ve sat and watched and tried to pay attention – still I only understand a few of the rules.
(I’ve long suspected they make them up as they go. I’ve seen Ken Burn’s Baseball and know this was once a thing.)
I don’t know all the names for the different plays, and until last year (or perhaps the year before) thought the short stop was someone who stood off to the side of the catcher for some unknown reason.
Whenever my husband has to work during a game he calls me and asks “What’s the score?”
Naturally I never know. And why he keeps calling is a bigger mystery than why that damn Kringle keeps barking at me. Or why all our zucchini died. Or why a little tiny gas can (sans gas) costs twenty-four dollars. Or why my eyes are puffy and red and my lips sore covered and swollen.
It’s just the way shit happens.
Below you will see the best thing to do when Shit Happens.