What idiot would put on her shoes, double-check to make sure she was wearing pants, and drive to Foods Plus at one in the morning to buy fruit?
One who looks a lot like me.
Belle is to be the maid of honor at her friend’s wedding, and had, weeks ago, volunteered to bring fruit salad to the shower this afternoon.
Belle had no money this week. She could not buy fruit. Plus, she’s sick.
She asked me what she should do, in a voice tinged with the kind of desperation associated with young people who think having no money for wedding shower fruit is actually something awful.
So I drove to town in the wee sma’s and bought fruit. And this morning, I got up early and cut it up and arranged it in layers in a big container.
When she stopped by to get it at ten, she was most properly grateful, even though her voice is so hoarse and gravelly she sounded like the love child that Carol Channing and Gilbert Gottfried accidentally left out in the cold rain one stormy night. Poor sick baby. Have fun giving your ‘maid of honor’ speech.
I’m not making fun of you, Belle dear. I’m just. . . . .well, okay, I’m making fun of you. But just a little bit.
The point is, I love her so much, I’ll wear shoes and pants, and drive all the way to town at one in the morning to buy fruit for her, and get up early on a weekend to cut it up.
It’s probably good that nobody else in the house was anywhere near me as I wielded that sharp knife at that hour of the morning, though. Nobody was near me because they were all still IN BED SLEEPING. Not me, though. I was standing at the sink in my sexy red knit nightie; you know, the faded one that only has one button left, and it’s hanging by a thread, much like a baby tooth displayed at the dinner table when there’s company? The one that looks like the moths have been feasting? The one that’s shot full of holes because it’s so old and has been through the wringer so many times?
Stop smirking; that means it’s been laundered a lot.
Don’t mess with me. That sharp knife is still in the sink, and I know how to use it.
Oh, and while I was out last night I may have stopped by WalMart. I mean, I was already THERE, and it’s open 24 hours, and, and, and. . . . . .
WalMart, Hula. I went to WalMart. Next step: WalMart during normal hours.