Cave-In

blue-ring

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Today I am grateful to cave-in.  I have been trying to download and work with the pictures I took on our anniversary excursion to Philly and if I see that damned little working-spinning-buzzing circle one more time the computer will be in the back yard and the window will need replacing.  Grrrr.

 

Some of you have requested details about the day.  You know I have plenty!  With pictures to go with them.  If the bad-boy-photo-program will ever let me work with them without the blasted circle spinning me into vertigo.  Am I repeating myself?  Am I repeating myself?  I get nuts from that spinning circle.

 

Let’s face it, as I age I don’t handle frustration or discomfort very well anymore.  I wanted to look nice for the day.  But it was 95 degrees with 2000% humidity.  Not my best weather.  I had specific criteria to meet.  A shirt that wouldn’t show sweat. . .or my lunch. . .and pants that were loose and as light as possible, while still being full length so sneakers wouldn’t look stupid.  A lot goes into these decisions.  As an afterthought I grabbed a pretty blue ring that I love and that matched the blue of the earrings and shirt.

 

By the time we got on the train at 8:30 a.m., I was already melting. . .and swelling like a tick sucking on an artery.  Halfway to Philly I started fidgeting with that ring.  Himself, trying to ignore me, finally said, “You’re not going to make it all day wearing that ring.”

 

“I know, but it looks cool and matches the earrings, so I’m wearing it,” I said, twisting my flesh like a reluctant corkscrew.

 

“You’re swelling from the heat.”  Brilliant man says.  Thank you for your public service announcement.

 

“I know that.  Do you think I don’t know that?  I always blow up like a Macy’s balloon when it’s hot and humid.”  Have I mentioned I hate the heat?

 

“I’m just saying that if you don’t take that thing off soon you won’t be able to get it off and I don’t wanna be around when you go crazy trying.”  Now that’s support!

 

And he pissed me off because he is right.  The kind of “right” you achieve after 34 years.  This is not his first rodeo, either. So I start twisting, working and tugging to get that ring off.  And can’t.  So I get a little frantic.  Started licking my finger like it’s Hagen Daz.  Trying not to draw attention, but drawing attention.  It finally sucks off with a sound just like the last slurp of a milk shake.  I’m fixating on ice cream to take my mind off the pudgy, painful flesh.

 

Whether it’s with a photo editing program. . .or a too-tight ring on a swelling finger. . .it’s important to know when to cave-in.  I still had a mark on my finger where the ring had been hours later.  But the ring spent the day in my purse.   Maybe I’ll wear it in winter.

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