tedwords

"Do you think the bleach is going to kill me?"

I fondled a zucchini and glanced over at Corb. "You inhaled it about two hours ago, babe. You're not dead yet, so probably not." Then, worried. "I just can't believe I didn't hear you when you were calling out."

"You did. But what you said didn't make any sense. Something about finding a secret entrance to Green Victoria."

"That's because I was asleep. Deep sleep. But that's what worries me." I stood there, thinking back on what Corb had told me (at least three times) this morning. He had been cleaning the shower downstairs, had spilled a bottle of bleach. The fumes had been so bad he had trouble breathing. And since then, all he had been saying, every five minutes is--

"Gah, I still have an ammonia smell in my nose. Even now." He wrinkled his nose.

"How about if you had collapsed and died?" I asked, feeling a pang of remorse that I was such a late sleeper. "Maybe I should take you to the emergency room. Now. Just in case."

Corb brushed that aside and delicately removed the zucchini from my grip. "Like you said, I'm not dead yet. Besides, we don't have three hours to wait in the emergency room. We have an emergency food situation. We need to get back to eating healthy.

Hence the Saturday morning produce aisle trip. The two of us vowed after the big wedding party we were going to start to work off our happy fat. And so far, so good: I weighed in six weeks ago at 191. Last week, I was down by 18 pounds. Corb has lost 20.

Which is good, but this week, we both gained a pound. Nothing to freak out about, but we knew exactly what was going on. Apathy was starting to creep in. We had started to break our rules. First, we gave in to guilt-free Saturdays (within moderation). I added bagels back into my breakfast. Last Sunday was a particularly decadent breakfast. We added an extra day to eating out for supper.

Sum total: we were on the garden path to hell. Time to put the breaks on all of THAT. I wanted to break 170, if I could, dammit.

My phone started to vibrate. I glanced down. "Dammit. Ashes."

"Put it away."

Ashes was continuing on her obsession with her boyfriend. He hadn't seen her since last Sunday (although they were planning to spend two days together starting tomorrow.) He hadn't texted her since last night at seven and she hadn't heard from him yet today and it was noontime. She was worried, and I quote "Is he trying to get me to break up with him? Is he sick of me?"

I know one thing, I was sick of her. I was sick of her sitting in her bed, not cleaning her room, and just staring at her phone, and asking me endlessly, "when will he text? when will he text?" And then he texts and she is happy, for maybe five minutes.

Don't get me wrong, she is doing several really good things. Started taking driving lessons (again). Signed up for grad school (getting an A so far). Has held down a job for more than a year. Yeah, good! And having Bruce in her life has been good, for the most part. At least, it keeps her away from the house for the week-ends, for the most part. But this constant obsession with whether he was tired of her to the exclusion of all else, well..

"It's getting tiring." I sighed and shoved the phone back in my pocket. "Okay, what's for dinner tonight? Chicken?"

"Chicken it is." Corb sniffed and grimaced. "Man, that ammonia smell!"

Another buzz. I glanced down: He texted me. Says he lost his phone privileges cause he kept texting his friend. Of course he couldn't be bothered to send me a text.

I sighed. Such was my life today. Ammonia smells and Ashes obsessing over semi-unrequited love.

That's okay, it's a Saturday and life could be a lot worse. Maybe I could go home and put together a Live Journal post, the way that I used to...yeah, that's the ticket.

"Shall we move on to the breasts?" Corb asked.

(END TRANSCRIPT)