It’s four a.m. and I’ve just burned my belly button

There’s nothing like a pre-dawn crawl round the nether-world under one’s bed to kick-start to the day.

I’m traveling light—just tomorrow’s dress and wrap in a tote with make-up and small purse—and plan to wear my knee-high boots that will go with both the slacks tonight and the long sweater dress tomorrow. I’m determined not to check bags, and my other carry-on is the laptop. I mean, I have better uses for my time while waiting two hours to be picked up on the way to the wake. “Bring a good book!” Mom said. That, and a pile of help documentation to comb through and rewrite.

So there I was (in the congo), crawling around in the space between the wall and the side of the bed (about the width of the night stand) reaching around with my arm into the Pit of Dust and Lost Toys, when I thought I saw patent leather (shut up) and went for it. Just as I did, my pj top pulled up over my belly button, and I lay full across the heating vent.

Aye caramba.

Comments

  1. Thank you for living. And being able to write.

  2. Um, have a safe flight?

  3. If I saw a reference that wasn’t there, I’m going to look like a tool but I have to tell you… My mother makes the best brisket.

  4. Em, you rock.

    Just the other day, I stabbed a hunk of Phil’s lasagna and asked, “You gonna eat that?”

  5. What, no photos?!?!