Here we go again, another day another blog post. Today is one of those days where everything that could go wrong has. I’m sure you’ve had days like that which is why mu W Did You Know? is this. Did you know wine helps me iron out the day to day wrinkles in both my personal and my writing life?
In 1785, Robert Burns wrote “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry”. Two hundred and thirty-eight years later, that hadn’t changed and remains one of the constants in my life and probably yours, too. We all make plans, pencil them in on the calendar and then something throws a wrench in the machinery and all the carefully laid plans go poof!
When things get really wrinkled, I get stressed and then I don’t sleep. That’s when I realize that a glass of merlot or cabernet can help me relax and once I relax, I can iron out the wrinkles in a plot, or find a way to deal with the wrinkles in my life. Today, my mother was more absent than usual, and that makes it hard for me to focus. Then, the TV remote wouldn’t work properly, and that was a catastrophe of epic proportion in my husband’s eyes (I fixed it) and my allergies are acting up. Plus, with the weather vacillating from spring to winter and back again, I don’t even know how to dress.
Tonight will definitely call for glass or two of wine.
I’ll leave you with a scene from Make Mine a Manhattan. Someone else was having a bad day.
for lunch with Callie and Mickey.”
The bell rang announcing the arrival of another customer.
Thank you, Lord.
“Fine,” Mom agreed, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. “Maybe he doesn’t need a date per se. There will be plenty of single women there. I’ll see you at one thirty sharp.”
She frowned, her mask moving up her face almost obliterating her eyes.
I sighed, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be the end of it, but if I didn’t make lunch, I wouldn’t survive the lecture that was sure to follow.
“I’ll be here.”
Turning abruptly, I collided with the mountain behind me, splashing my iced capp all over both of us, the beige froth settling and melting on top of his loafers.
A collective gasp filled the room, and I was suddenly aware of the dozens of gazes fixed on me. This was the icing on my sucks-to-be-me day!
There was Frank, the town mechanic and Sylvia who ran the dry cleaners. Was that Mayor Loucks? Hard to tell with the mask, hat, and sunglasses. When news of my latest debacle got around—and it would do so at super-sonic speed, His Worship would be glad to have avoided setting up his big buyer with the Queen of Klutz and Bad Luck.
“Oh my God,” Mom cried. “What have you done? I swear when God was handing out clumsiness, you asked for a double dose. Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?”
Where I’m going? Injured party here!
Speechless, I gaped at the huge, wet spot spreading across the man’s tan shirt and khaki pants, scarcely noticing the fact that my white cotton t-shirt was just as wet. Tilting my head up, I stared at the black mask, mirrored sunglasses, and brim of a Panama hat. When had I ever seen a man with such broad shoulders? To rub a little salt into the wound of my humiliation, despite my mask, the aroma of his aftershave tickled my nose, and I sneezed.
Heat filled my cheeks. No doubt the top half of my face was as red as a ripe tomato, and considering I had frizzy, carrot-colored hair, currently pulled up into a messy bun on the top of my head, it wouldn’t be a good look on me. I peered at the mess I’d made, suddenly aware of the fact that my tightened nipples were poking out of my wet shirt.
Mortification mixed with indignation, and my brain clicked into gear. I set the empty cup on the table beside me and tried to cover my wet chest with my arms.
The stranger just stood there, looking down on me.
Not known for my patience and diplomacy, I lashed out at him in a tone worthy of Katerina in The Taming of the Shrew.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Of course, if you hadn’t been standing right on my ass, we might’ve avoided the collision. Or don’t you know what six feet, social distancing means?”
He hissed in a sharp breath but didn’t speak, no doubt because he knew I was right.
Mom raced around the counter with a damp cloth and a pile of napkins.
“Don’t just stand there, do something.”
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the damp cloth from her, and started dabbing at the coffee on my t-shirt.
“Not you, for heaven’s sake,” Mom barked.
So much for motherly love and compassion!
Pasting a fake smile on my face, I turned to the man and began rubbing at the stain on his shirt and pants, praying they wouldn’t stain; otherwise, I would be expected to cough up for replacement designer clothes that cost more than my annual tax bill. My new t-shirt was probably ruined, and that annoyed me more, causing me to rub harder.
I stopped dead, my heart pounding out a primitive beat, my lungs refusing to function.
While the stranger had to be at least six foot six, I was barely five feet tall. Most of the coffee stain was on his crotch, a fact my addled brain had ignored. My hand was essentially massaging that area of his anatomy, and I could feel something cylindrical growing hard under it.
I jumped away as if I’d been tasered. The old, Is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you happy to see me joke ripped through my mind, and I smothered a giggle.
“Robin, you’re just making it worse,” my mother said, handing the man the pile of napkins. “Perhaps you would like to step into the washroom, sir?”
The man grunted and reached for the napkins. I couldn’t help noticing his hands. Whoever I’d collided with had the hands of a pianist, with long tapered fingers. What would it be like to have hands like that caress my body?
Mother of God! What is wrong with me?
That’s it for me today. Find other bloggers and their posts here. https://tinyurl.com/3we8aa84
Come back tomorrow when I’ll give you a Did You Know? for the letter X. Enjoy your day.
Living the Dream 