Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
We're under a heat advisory. I worked around the house Saturday morning (cleaned out a kitchen cabinet and the drawer under the range, dusted, organized my table linens) and gradually disrobed because of the heat. By the time Sweet Cheeks arrived, I was in nothing but my pink panties and a sports bra with no seductive gleam in my eye.
We sat down to drink margaritas and chat.
I read something about that nerve in your back, Sweet Cheeks said. Siratica. I don't know if that's how you say it.
Sciatica, I told him.
Yeah, siratica, he said.
I laughed and laughed.
Then we talked about what we'd read in the news, which we always do, which led to us bitching and complaining about people who won't get vaccinated, thereby ruining things for the rest of us.
We are old and tired and with margaritas in us we closed our eyes and took a cat nap. When we awoke, I fixed teriyaki chicken and rice for supper, followed by warm blueberry crumble with ice cream.
This crumble is better than any cobbler they have in a restaurant, he said, further endearing himself to me.
He helped me with a couple of things that required my presence on the step ladder. It was his job to hand stuff to me, including the silver chafing dish that I put on a shelf in my closet.
I told him the chafing dish had been used a total of once.
We were having a Christmas party, I explained. Ten minutes before the guests were due to arrive, X put the dish on the dining room table, put in the alcohol, and lit it. He had spilled some of the alcohol and when it caught fire, it burned the Christmas tablecloth I spent months embroidering and scorched the table. We ran around opening windows to clear the smoke and covered the burned table with a different cloth. The guests had no clue that anything strange occurred.
Sweet Cheeks laughed and laughed.
We sat down again to chat some more. I showed him how I had set up Alexa so she can turn on some lights.
If I say 'let there be light,' she turns on all the lights, I said.
That's nice, he said.
Thanks, Alexa said.
We laughed and laughed. I sent him home with leftovers that I put in plastic containers. He is the man I can trust with my Tupperware.
Infinities of love,