not the buzz of excitement

Thursday, may. 4, 2006   |   0 comments

When the movers were moving all my boxes into the house, one of the boxes started making a low buzzing sound, and the nice and burly mover who was moving it said, what do you have in here, like a toy dog or something? And I looked at him, confused for a second, then I guess a look of blushing panic spread across my face because he kind of barked an embarrassed sort of laugh, then he scurried off to the other room with the box still buzzing. When he dropped it to the floor, the buzzing stopped, and from across the house he yelled out, everything’s okay now! And then, with head averted, he went back to the truck for another load of boxes (and, clearly, to share the good news of a confirmed “Code V,” or whatever name they have for it, with the other movers).

Only the next day, while I was brushing my teeth, did it occur to me that the buzzing wasn’t actually the sound of a healthy and very modern woman’s right to take responsibility for her own sexual healing, etcetera. No, my not-at-all-embarrassing electric toothbrush was the culprit! Not only that, but I don’t even own anything that would make that particular “toy dog” kind of noise (at least nothing that could emit audible evidences without the power of an electric outlet). Total gyp!

Something about the incident reminded me of the time I went into a none-too-private office bathroom and, giggling to myself, proceeded to make like ten long, fruity mouth farts into the V of my joined hands, thinking that when I emerged, I’d find the whole office laughing along with me. But when instead I came out to discover the whole office politely typing in silence, the wave of embarrassment I felt was just as powerful, maybe more so, than if I’d been stuck in there dropping bona fide ass bombs. I’m not too sure what I’m supposed to learn from this, or what the practical application of this life lesson should be. Embarrassment arrives whether I court it or not, so why not let it rip? Clearly label my boxes? Grow up?

More importantly, do you think it would be weird if I tracked down the mover’s number and called him to explain about my toothbrush?

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Both Marbles and Piggy spent the night in bed with us last night! It wasn’t the smoothest night’s sleep any of us has ever had, but still: progress! But not all is golden: last night I somehow managed to buy fat free half and half. How is such a product even possible? As I AIMed to Jill, they should honor the complete wrongness of the thing by making it a different color or something. You mean like green catsup, she asked. Exactly, I said.