I am on day 10 of recovery. The scabs down my legs have partially fallen off, revealing fresh, glossy pink skin. My arm, however, remains an open wound: A soup of plasma, fat, and regenerated skin. But that’s not what’s kept me from making my triumphant return to work. On the evening of my accident, I had that familiar tickle at the back of my throat, signifying an incoming cold.Continue reading “I am Jack’s seeping wound.”
Does anybody else react with sarcasm in place of cursing when something goes wrong?
One of the wires of the whisk attachment for my hand mixer came loose, spraying flecks of butter-saturated brown sugar everywhere. “Oh, fun! A mess!” I exclaimed. It was already past ten at night. I’d misjudged how long that evening’s baking project was going to take, and now I had a mess to clean up too.
Along with this after-dark banana bread production, I’d also powered on my food processor for some hummus. My landlords went out of town for a few days, so I used their absence as an opportunity to raise a ruckus!
“If a tree falls in a forest and only I am around, does it make a sound?”Continue reading “Ironically, “aural” is an anagram of Laura.”