It’s the cannabis fudge. That’s why we’re laughing. (Also, this may have been the first time in his life that David has ever truly been high, because I gave him just a titch more fudge than I ingested – you know, because he’s taller and slightly heavier than I am.) We’re laughing so hard that…
I swear I was not being intentionally disrespectful. I just couldn’t take it any more. Earlier in the day: “Hoorah! I have received my shipment of Humpback Posture Correctors!!” (There’s a sentence every woman wants to utter.) It’s been a process folks. After having purchased 6 different styles of posture correctors – each of which…
Is mole DNA similar to rabbit DNA? And by “mole” I mean a mole on your face or body, and by rabbit I mean literal fucking rabbits. If you have two moles on your face, do their melanocytes then multiply exponentially like the proverbial rabbit? Is my face now a Ponzi Scheme? Last year I…
“Mom, Sean Connery died.” “What? Oh no! When?” “This morning. He was 90.” “Oh… well, that’s a good long life, but still very sad.” “Yeah, it is. I know he was your favourite.” “Yes, yes, definitely him, then Daniel Craig.” David pipes up in the background. “Second favourite.” For a moment, I am dumbfounded. “You…
“Have you ever wanted to buy me a special outfit?” I ask David. “Pardon?” David asks, turning his head towards mine. We’re in bed, reading. He has a puzzle book and a pencil. He’s writing in the margins. I’m reading a contemporary romance. “Like, have you ever wanted to choose something specific for me to…
“Yes. I will,” says Rissa. “Thank you.” “You are elderly.” “Runh?” “Ma, you’re showing all the signs.” “I’m 52!” “Do you, or do you not implement fall prevention measures?” “Yes, but that’s for the ear thing…” “Is that a bowl of hard candies on the counter?” “Yes…” “How many pills do you take each day?”…
“I’m telling you Rissa, when you’re middle-aged, your vulva gets sassy.” Rissa pauses brushing her teeth. “I’m sorry?” “Your vulva – well at least your labia – they get…” “What is happening right now?” “I was wearing those pants without underwear…” “Ma!” “I am passing on information that will be useful when YOU are 52 years…
David and Rissa say that I am not allowed to take up DIY cosmetic surgery. No matter how much I want to. I’d just like to say though, that if my armpits were made up of fabric instead of migrating breast tissue stores, I could put a dart in that shit. I am very handy…
“OHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH GOD!” I moan. “Heather?” “Sweet Jesus…” “You okay in there?” “I’m good, I’m good.” David cracks open the bathroom door. “You sure?” “I did cardio kickboxing yesterday with Rissa.” “Ahhhhhh… not that kind of moaning.” “Yeah.” He winces as I try to walk. “It’s like child birth.” “What?” “Kickboxing. It’s like child birth….
So hot. Sweaty. Can’t get enough air into my lungs. Climbing up through sleep knowing one thing is certain: This is it. I have COVID-19. The pit of my stomach fills with panic. I kick one leg out of the blankets, seeking cooler air. The rest of my body feels paralyzed. I have no energy…