I'll Cut You

Dear Blog, it has been over a year. I would say I'm sorry, but if I was truly sorry I wouldn't have waited a year to visit.

A year of disasters have happened. But, I'll begin with my favorite -

I went to visit A. I love A dearly, but it is not often that her and I get to spend time chatting, just the two of us. We did just that on this particular evening. It was last summer, but it wasn't too warm so we sat on her porch. I took a half full, family sized bottle of wine. I am the lush that always brings her own bottle. I am the lush that is always asked to open the unopened bottle of wine...or maybe it's just the bartender in me.... Anywho - We drank a couple glasses, but there was still a little bit of wine left when I got up to leave. So, I corked the bottle and left almost exactly as I had come. A had already made her way back into her house as I crossed the street to where my car was parked.

Now, I must make a double side note. I almost always have on flip flops in the summer unless I'm at work or out on the town. Flip flops have no traction. Also, A and I decided to have a wine drinking pajama party, so I was wearing Frankenstein pj pants....

I go to step on the sidewalk and my right flip flop, well, flops out from under me. Or maybe it flipped....Down I went, wine bottle first. I managed to roll away, so my torso avoided the glass, but I can't say the same for my hand. And there I sat, surrounded by glass and red wine. I would have actually felt better about the situation had I been drunk. My only option was to call A for help, and out she came to the rescue. She may have even been wearing a super hero cape. She picked me up off the ground and took me inside to pick glass out of my hand, while her darling love Sir M went and cleaned up my mess. Hands bleed a lot. Just so you know.

I was finally sent on my way...again. I made it to my house without further incident, only to find that the college brats were parked in my parking pad...AGAIN. For the most part they are well behaved. But, if Sir R came home (he is no longer my fiance, but my loving husband) and could not park in the parking pad that he built behind the house that he owns, well, it isn't always pretty. Sooooo, I asked if the vehicle that was unknown to me belonged to anyone on the deck behind my house. Some poor fellow jumped up and came to move it apologizing over and over. I explained that it was not public parking, don't do it again, etc. As I am doing this I hear a call from the party "Who's that bitch!?" Before I let myself respond I looked down at myself in my Frakenstein pajama pants, broken flip flops (yes, the flop broke), and bloody, wine stained hand, and gave up.