"What do you need it for?" he asked.
I think I might be coming down with something.
"Sure, we have airborne. But I have something better."
I shrugged. "OK."
He directed me to this:
"You'll feel better in 40 minutes."I don't feel that much better. Two days later, I'm thinking about making pancakes and using this as syrup.
So the next meeting is scheduled for 11 am, Sunday, at Bubby's in Tribeca. Always an interesting journey to get to any sort of decision with this group. Generally, I'll make a suggestion and then we won't do it. Homemade brunch. "Bedbugs" sings the choir.But, ultimately, we're going to have a good time and eat some good food. Shouldn't this be enough?
No. It's not. I feel as though I'm on survivor island and everybody else has secretly formed alliances. People are sharing a sonicare toothbrush, an electric generator, and a blender with which to make mango breakfast smoothies and I'm foraging for elderberries and brushing my teeth with twigs.I'm just kidding. I pick my battles. It's a skill that's acquired with increased wisdom. It's something I'm determined to teach to a few members of the club. This is my burden.
I'm going to slurp soup now.
3 comments:
omg i'm sick too! I bet it was from the microphones last week.
there's no alliances (unless there ARE, and i also don't know about them...), except james and carolyn are married.
maybe when the bedbug scare dies down we can reschedule the brunch. it didn't help that carolyn told us the most disgusting story about the girl throwing up in a wall last week.
The story was a metaphor. The girl in the story is James. And his actions were a cry for help. He wanted to be found out.
i totally forgot about vomit wall hole.
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