Another Pink Book!

Chapter 2

Friday, 7:45 am

I ate a quick breakfast, started a load of towels, took a shower and realized starting the towels was a mistake. Then I had to dry my hair, make the bed and I saw my cell phone. I had forgotten to charge it and the power was only at 12%. I put it on the charger, prayed, and then I put the towels in the dryer. It was 7:45 before I was able to leave and my cell phone was only up to 30%.

I was fuming a bit. Ben was sour because he had to take my big dog, Sam, to the vet. Sam is a big baby and when I say big I mean it. He usually weighs about 170 pounds, although on his last vet visit he had lost 2 whole pounds. I was very distressed about him wasting away and was worried about his weight. I had been cooking hamburgers for him, to supplement his diet so he wouldn't get anemic. The doctor had suggested a...well, Sam hadn't yet been...I know as a member of the Humane Society it is a bit hypocritical of me, but Sam wasn't fixed.

I had been meaning to get around to it. But Sam was a house dog and wasn't allowed around females, I rationalized. Poor baby was afraid of the vet—and thunder, fireworks, cats, grasshoppers, mice, celery, and bunnies. I admit the celery was strange, but fear is fear and is not always justifiable. I just couldn't bring myself to subject my sweet baby to the additional trauma of having surgery.

Ben had a number of caustic comments about spoiled dogs and the foolish women who indulged them. He didn't want to take Sam to Doc McNally. We had a rather sharp disagreement about the matter. I was worried about poor Sam's nerves and warned Ben that if he put my dog in the back of his truck, I would divorce him.

When I finally made it to my Beetle and started it, I realized I was low on gas. I had gone ¼ mile down the road when Ben called to complain that Sam wouldn't get into the truck. He got really snippy when I told him about the emergency roasted turkey legs I had hidden in the back of the refrigerator. I used them to get Sam to do things he didn't want to do. Ben and I quarreled when he pointed out that HE was doing something HE didn't want to do and the only thing HE got was a snarky wife.

I hung up on Ben and immediately the phone rang: it was Katie Lee. She wanted to know if I was on the way yet and would I stop by Wal-Mart and get her some fabric softener. Then Ben called back to quarrel because I hung up on him. I hung up on him and Katie Lee called back to make sure I didn't get the nasty lavender that I loved but she thought smelled like cheap air freshener. I hung up on her, called Ben back and yelled some more. Then I hung up, called Katie Lee to ask if she wanted the summer-scented kind and she asked me if I had lost my mind.

Ben sent me a text with a picture of the interior of his truck: it was covered in moisture that might have been drool, bits of turkey and a hunkering Sam who was sitting in a puddle of spilled water—or something, behind the steering wheel with his teeth bared. I pulled over to the side of the road to have another quarrel about the matter. Between Ben and Katie Lee, my cell phone power went down alarmingly. I finally made it to the gas station but could barely pump my gas between yelling into the phone and switching back and forth between calls.

I stopped at the store, answered a few more calls, threatened Ben and scolded Katie Lee. She wasn't satisfied with my progress and kept adding items to my shopping list: capers, orange marmalade, cinnamon dental floss, non-acetone nail polish remover, and peppermint gum. She called several times to specify brands and types.

Finally, I gathered all the items, checked out and struggled to the parking lot with my bags. I had foolishly decided to carry everything myself instead of using a cart. When I got to the car, I couldn't lift one of my arms to open the trunk. The bags were cutting into my hands and my purse was banging against my thigh. My phone rang with my Sugarloaf ringtone, "Don't Call Us, We'll Call You". I threw the bags onto the ground retrieved my phone.