bedroom galilee clive barker bathroom a lost lady willa cather car/walk mirror, mirror on the wall kate bernheimer, editor
office up r.e.m. car the heretic's apprentice [book-on-tape] ellis peters living room the sci fi channel
brand x the message came from out of the blue: Brand X welcomes you into its clutches.
1999 may 26
chicago fleas
i arrived home last night to the following message on my answering machine: claire, it's kay. give me a ring when you get home, i have a scott story to tell you.
turns out she received a call from the afterschool daycare scott goes to in the afternoons. "mrs j? i'm afraid you'll have to come pick scott up, we can't have these kind of infestations here at the daycare?"
"infestations? what do you mean infestations? and what does it have to do with scott?"
"scott told us about your flea problem, we can't have risk him giving them to the other children."
one of the teachers had asked scott about the red scratches on his arm, scratches he received at the claws of riley, his cat. never one to give a simple truth when the opportunity for fantastic embellishment arises, scott told her they were flea bites. and not just ordinary fleas, but chicago fleas; those are the worst kind you know. he was so convincing the entire staff at the school was in a panic, making arrangements for fumigation, trying to compose carefully worded notes to the other parents.
at age seven he caused this havoc. he has a great career in politics ahead of him.
we ran to the grocery last night for milk and cake; actually, we only needed the milk but i figured as long as we were there we should make the most of the opportunities.
we hopped in the car and gene reached over from the passenger seat to release the handbrake for me, but couldn't. i grabbed it, pulled up slightly, pushed in the button and released it. he stared at me, stared at the brake, then pulled it back up only to be unable to release it once again. i giggled, released it and started backing up.
"i am strong thumb girl!" i crowed.
"oh yeah? you wanna thumb wrestle?"
"we just had a display of thumb strength and it is obvious i am superior!"
"but it was my weak thumb, my left thumb, that's not fair"
"it was my weak thumb too silly, i'm left handed, remember?"
"you're what?"
nine months living together, not to mention the dating time before that, and the man still doesn't notice with which hand i write. good thing he makes up for it in other ways, like chicken soup making.
suddenly scratchy, claire
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