in this life of leisure of mine, i sometimes lose track of the days on my personal lunar calender. i'm reminded while running up the steps. when it feels like i'm lugging around the cremains of my ancestors in a bra from victoria's secret that fit the previous day. then a twinge of annoyance at something petty: dr. phil's man camp or rachel ray's bangs or why my pants have to have a zipper or just the concept of the sun. i start picturing myself sliding face-first into the world's largest vat of super potato oles. trouble, i remind myself, is on its way.
"we're in the danger zone," i warned chuck a few days ago. he would figure it out soon enough, anyway. the danger zone is vicious. in rochester, my friend hank would interupt one of my tirades to say: "would you just bleed already?"
normally i am pretty even-keeled, if not downright cheery. a handful of days from my ortho-try 'cebos and i'm likely to un-even keel in one of two ways: i may weep with love because i've never tasted such a fantastic avacado. but i'm more inclined to go all english major on your ass: deconstructing every sentence that is said to me, cuing into word-choice, tone, expression and context. have an 80,000 dollar english major fit.
it would go like this:
chuck: good morning!
me: [snort] morning.
i roll over.
chuck: are you mad?
me: well, when you said "good morning" did you mean "good morning, i don't like you anymore? you have a huge zit and your face looks swollen and mangled?
chuck: nooooo ... i meant good morning.
me: THATS NOT HOW IT SOUNDED!
given fair warning [a strap slicing into my shoulder blades, desperate to keep the cremains in place] and i can nip it. tread lightly. speak slowly and think rationally before i go completely insane.
chuck helps. i'll even let him call me a crabass, whereas if anyone else did it i'd probably shove a pumpkin down their throat. he has been advised, much like a mogwai owner, to keep me away from alcohol during this particular week. i like to think that if i somehow found a way to wrap my lips around a bottle of shiraz, that he would physically put his man sandal on my forehead, then yank it from my monkey claw.
in the meantime, he speaks to me very carefully. simple one syllable non gender specific nouns and verbs void of connotation.
grueling, perhaps. but it is in both of our best interest.
this morning when we woke i was in a good mood. partly because he had been sleeping in a funny position and i couldn't wait to immitate it for him. he noticed the subtle change in demeanor and asked if we were out of the danger zone yet.
"what did he mean by THAT?" i wondered.