"Laur?"
Sarah called from the kitchen, where she was rooting about in the depths of the
fridge. You'd think we were catering for the last supper there was that much
food teetering on the shelves.
"Laur! You sure you brought in all the shopping?"
I dropped my hand to my side, and yelled back, less than happy with her timing.
"What?!"
"I said, have you seen-"
"Come here if you want to talk to me!"
I could hear her muttering as the crisper drawer got stuck and her grumbling
became clearer as she walked up the hallway. I'd be happy when her sister's baby
shower was over, tell you the truth. Miss "I can plan anything" was being a
right pain and I wanted the caterer gone and my sane-ish girlfriend back.
Sarah pushed open the bedroom door.
"I said, have you seen the cucum-" she paused and I followed her gaze to the
towel under my bum "-bers?"
Oh.
I have found it never bodes well when she goes silent. Looking at the roof in
prayer is likewise an unfortunate sign. There is *fun* exasperation, you know,
the sort that gets me chased around the couch and into a great evening with a
wonderfully stinging bum courtesy of my oh-so-fierce girl. And then there is…
this.
Everything clenched. And oh my god, if that did not send it rocketing out my bum
like only so much high-quality lubed- up produce. Organic though. And it could
easily have gone the other way and then where would her sandwiches be?
She sent a plea to the gods of light fixtures and I quietly –well there are no
words- willed myself to die. It didn't seem daft a panting minute ago.
"If you peeled them…"
No, no. That would not work.
She snatched them up and marched out as I tried to grab her hand, scrambling in
the tangle of denim at my ankles.
"You don't have to do that! Sarah! C'mon!"
I heard the snap of the foot pedal on the kitchen bin and sighed. I wrenched the
towel from under my sticky bum and tossed it at the door.
Bloody baby shower.
"Laur?"
Sarah was standing in the doorway, holding the towel . Was she laughing at me?
She put a hand on her hip and pointed at me and all parts south knew the meaning
of that way before by addled brain processed it.
"I'll deal with you later, missy."
Oh thank god.
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