kryptonite

Seeing a dead dog on the side of the road brings me to my knees, zaps everything I have gathered inside me to face the day, leaves me parched and aching like a dry socket after a wisdom tooth removal.

What's your kryptonite?

let down

I've been looking forward to it since last night. Husband was supposed to do it for me, but he was distracted and promised to take care of it first thing this morning. I figured that probably wouldn't happen-- he's too busy in the mornings, after sleeping that extra ten minutes in, to even take care of his own needs, much less mine. So I did it myself-- retrieved my instruments from their hidey-holes, laid out a surface on which to perform, and went to work. Satisfied, I cleaned up, packaged my results, and went off to work.

I made myself wait until 10:30. It was sitting there, staring at me, condensation and sweet nectar collecting on the skin, glinting at me through the clear plastic box. Finally, 10:30, and I popped the top. The flesh, like skin too long in the summer sun, had faded from bright white to spotty tan, but I knew that the sweet juiciness would not be affected. Picking out a large sliver and holding it delicately between my thumb and forefinger, my teeth sliced down through the pulp, pulling and tearing when the outer skin was reached. Munching away, at first happy and finally sated, I frowned. Not sweet, not juicy, not tasty at all. Like bland, tasteless, brown mush. Just about the worst apple ever.

I hope that doesn't say something for the fate of my day.