So Thursday, I went to a pub for lunch. It was a modest lunch: fish and chips and two diet cokes. On my way out, I fall down the three (3!) stairs to the sidewalk. (My heel caught. Rubber sole shoes and my heel catches. Excellent.) Fortunately, I've had a rather late lunch so there aren't that many people on the street. Just one guy walking toward me. I stand up and gingerly limp back toward the office. As I near the guy, I notice he's swerving to avoid me. He's practically walking on the curb like a gymnast on a balance beam. Suddenly, I'm pissed*. He doesn't ask if I'm okay; he thinks I'm drunk! At 2:30 in the afternoon. I so should have walked up to him, slapped him on the chest, and slurred, "Yerrrrrrrrrrrr pretty!" (That's my favorite. When guys so drunk they are practically blind tell you you're pretty. Oh, do you really think so? Thanks! Squeal!)
I've been working on Apple Sampler lately. I'm planning to start something new this week. Stay tuned.
Sissy, it turns out, is allergic to betadyne. So her leg will eventually become less bubbly over the next three weeks. She and my dad are really sensitive--allergic to medical tape and latex too. I, on the other hand, am completely insensitive. Can't you tell?
*American sense, not British