Pardon me. I have an embarrassing confession to make.
I know that some things are better kept to myself. Just like I told that paraprofessional years ago, whose job it was to mind the library all day, since our only librarian was in another building. She really did not need to sit at the lunch table, lamenting, "Well, I fell asleep again at my desk for two hours." Uh uh. No need to air that soiled linen. No good could come of it.
This evening I felt especially energized. Ready to go. Fired up to whip out a couple of blog posts. Ideas flitted willy-nilly through my gray matter. I swear, in the span of ten minutes, I had four ideas. Solid ideas, I thought. Easily workable. Humorous, even. I was rarin' to go. Couldn't understand the sudden upsurge from yesterday's doldrums.
Then it hit me. I had stopped for a 44 oz. Diet Coke! Normally, I don't imbibe through the week. But it's a short week, by cracky! And I deserve a treat! It just so happens that my spurt of inspiration came upon sipping a couple of inches of my magical elixir. Sure, I had one yesterday. But I peaked early, and put off writing until the evening. My best-laid plans went swirling down the...drain.
Tonight, Farmer H and the #1 son were away at a basketball tournament. Our team doesn't play until tomorrow, but they wanted to get into the swing of the sports season at the get-go. So The Pony and I picked up a quick meal AND A 44 OZ. DIET COKE at the gas station chicken store on our way home.
And here's the embarrassing part. Look away! I'm hideous!
I carried my dinner down to my basement lair, to nibble on computerside, while my fingers flew in a flurry of idea-frenzy. A bite. Wipe my greasy paws. A sip. Type type type. Repeat. I was having a heyday. The simple things in life provide me pleasure.
Something caught my eye, lodged at the top of my shirt pocket, ready to slip down into my blue, pin-striped, button-collar, short-sleeved, relaxing-at-home oxford shirt. It was a chunk of chicken breast. White meat. Flesh. Seconds from slipping into my pocket. There is the edge of slovenliness, and then there is the abyss.
Thank the Gummi Mary, I caught myself before I had fallen with no hope of getting up.
3 comments:
That would have made a nice little snack later this evening. That's why we have crevasses built onto our body--they're crumb-catchers. Pockets are simply manmade ones.
Yeah, you could be enjoying that little fowl tidbit right now, but you went and spoiled it!
For shame, for shame, for shame!
Wha Sioux said ..... a little snack to savor later! But, I have a confession. I have been known to grab a bite while balancing the laptop upon my knee. I call it multi-tasking. But, when the end of the day comes and I am lounging with my furry kids, Toni Louise's favorite thing is the stick her nose in my sports bra to check for hidden treats. TMI?
Sioux,
I shall rue the day I spoiled my fowl tidbit.
I have an old friend I used to teach with in Cuba, MO. She was quite blessed in the chestal area. Or as she called it, her table. She had to dust off the crumbs after every meal, and sometimes found an overlooked treat.
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Kathy,
I guess it keeps her off your eyeballs for a while.
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