I don’t suppose it’s very intelligent of me to admit this, but I’ve been wandering around town with a box cutter in my purse.
That’s right. A weapon of mass destruction. In my purse.
Why, you say? Why would I be lurking at yoga, on the bus, in the streets of Our Fair Town with a box cutter?
Good question. I’m glad you asked that.
Actually, it's got everything to do with how much time I’ve been spending at Erin’s lately. Since Erin’s bought a house – a fine house at a fine price! A house steeped in tobacco smoke and pre-Cambrian wallpaper! A house that has not felt the loving touch of a hot soapy rag in years! And don’t think that I’m not positively crawling with stories about said wallpaper, the number of sandwiches we’ve eaten in the last two weeks, or the possibility that there really is a ghost in the high school across the street or that I am only bone-weary and making stuff up (because honestly – I don’t know about you – but if I’ve been on my feet for hours and not really getting enough sleep, eventually, left alone on the front step of a house in the dark and staring at what should be an empty building, I start making stuff up).
Frankly, I may be getting just a touch silly with all the excitement. A gal can only take so much fun, you know!
But back to the box cutter.
I’ve been carrying it around since we tore out/sliced up/rolled up the carpet. I found it on the bus yesterday whilst digging absentmindedly through my purse. It was kind of confusing, actually, like finding a June bug in your pie (yes, I have) or a cigarette butt in the baby’s room (no, I have not). I just sat there, looking furtively from one passenger to the next. Did they see me find it? Will someone call the authorities?
“Honestly, Officer! I – I – I don’t know why I’m still carrying it! No! No, I love my country!”
Next thing you know, I’m on the news. “Live, tonight! Woman on local bus found with box cutter and subdued by fellow passengers. We have the footage of her capture and hospitalization at 11:00!”
I’m going to turn myself in now. I’m a taxpayer, for cryin’ out loud! Surely they’ll go easy on me?
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