I spent the afternoon helping Wendy clean out her future
mother in law's pond. It was disgusting, very hard work, but tons of fun. After
creating a sizable heap of what I dubbed "mermaid hair" on the bank
(I don’t know, it was some kind of curly stuff that resembled green Spanish moss),
we decided to call it quits. We cleaned up our mess and headed back up to the
house, both covered in mud and some sort of silt that clung to the hairs on our
bodies and made us look like we had strong, burly man hair. Everywhere. Realizing
that we were not making much headway with the garden hose and noticing that I
have mud in places one should never have mud, I asked Mrs. Bonds if I could
jump in the shower. She obliged. About halfway through the shower, I started to
feel dizzy and nauseated. I knew from experience that I had gotten too hot and
needed to sit down before I passed out. I turned the water on cold only and sat
on the little shower bench. The feeling intensified. I knew I had to get out of
that hot little room, so I threw on my clean clothes and headed out into the
living area. Wendy, having seen this particular combination of symptoms before,
takes one look at my clammy pale face and asks, “Oh no. Are you going to throw
up?”
“I think it’s passing.” About that time another wave of
nausea hits me and I quickly look around for a proper receptacle. The bathroom
is not an option, it’s too far away and the doorway is blocked by Randy and his
dad with computer parts strewn about. I’ll never make it. I only have one
option. I run to the kitchen and arrive just in time to wretch in the sink. Wendy
and her mother in law are a mere 20 feet away, and although they are making sympathetic
noises, I know they must be repulsed. I try to apologize, but another wretch
pulls the words from my mouth, this time it’s deeper and is accompanied by a
repulsive guttural burping sound. Lovely.
I notice Wendy has gotten up and is rifling through some snacks
on the counter. She holds some up and asks, “You want some fig newtons? You
like fig newtons. I don’t really get it, but I guess you like what you like.” I
try not to laugh and heave again. “No? Maybe a granola bar. There’s some
granola bars with chocolate. Looks taaaaasty. Wanna 'nola bar? Do ya?” She dangles the granola bar by
the corner of the rapper. Finally my
cheese grits from this morning make an appearance and I know I have to be
nearing the finish line. “I think I’m going to have one of these chocolate
thingies. Maybe two. You know if you’re hungry you shouldn’t be shy. They don’t
mind if you have a snack. You really should eat something.”
I manage to squeak out, “I’m gonna punch you in the neck.” While
I rinse out my mouth and sheepishly clean the sink with cleanser I found under
the sink.
