Fatale Abstraction

As happens in life, the day I had today was not the day I planned for.

To begin with, about 48 hours ago, realization was dawning on me that there was something amiss with the old plumbing. Yesterday, a doctor for ladies made me an emergency appointment for this morning. Despite a very liberal attitude toward accessibility(anything's possible with enough lubrication), the me down there has never given so much as a yelp of protest, and I commend her for being such a trouper. Thus, this little development has me a wee bit freaked out. I got up this morning and piddled with making some jewelry to kill time until my appointment, then got my ass in gear. Hair looking fabulous, everything shaved, groomed, exfoliated and moisturized, we trotted our ass into the medical center, bold and fearless. But alas, I was a little late, and my doctor had to run off to do a C-section, so the ordeal is prolonged yet another day.

The floor of the hospital was all OB-Gyn and natology, and I got into the elevator with about 10 people who were cooing over boy/girl twins, everyone dazzled at the lovely pair of dumplings. At the last second, an older woman - maybe 60 - slid between the elevator doors next to me and faced forward stalwartly. I noticed she was in her own world, perhaps caught up in some tragic news she'd just received. Dreading my appointment tomorrow, my heart went out to her. She never moved, never swayed with the consensus of heady beautiful-baby-bliss that had infected all others.
I came home, checked email, and then laid down on the sofa, lulled to sleep by wild winds damned to put my new windchimes through their paces. I dreamt of cold mountains in Scotland, of trains and of herds of wild deer racing across the Highlands.
A friend, Tash, and I had talked about going for sushi tonight, but I rudely didn't return her call last week, so my voice mail this afternoon went unreturned.

I awoke, jack russell terrier wedged between my hip and the sofa back, as husband breezed through on his way to church. I kept thinking of the appointment tomorrow, and dread. I thought I needed to do something other than wait in torture for whatever they had to tell me about myself.

I got dressed. the new 'vogs you've seen, black stockings, a boho-chic skirt of diaphanous silky layers, a white linen shell, and a little black cashmere cardigan with a smattering of sequins about the neckline, hair still looking fabulous.
Tidied up the eyemakeup, put on some powder, left the house for my favorite sushi of the moment.
Driving along, OMG - how did I leave the house without lipstick? Ducked into a pharmacy and picked out a vulgar shade of red and went to the counter, where some ill-groomed female (serving the customer 2 ahead of me) was struggling with the register. The tall, nattily dressed man in front of me turned and smiled, eyebrow raised. I said "If you want to make a break for it now, I'll cover for you." He laughed heartily, and the corner of my mouth upturned wickedly. Naughty me.
Liberated from that fluourescent hell, I applied the new shade of red in the car and went to the sushi joint, where a convenient spot in front was waiting for me. I had Aji sashimi, and they fried the bones for me, and I ate the remainder of the carcass, eyeballs and all. Like fishy potato chips. Good stuff. 2 big Sapporos were killed in the pursuit of this meal. Chef Ryan and another chef talked to me most of the time, and I over-ordered fish. I had them box up the remainder of my sushi, and do a special order of Japanese Snapper sashimi (HEAVEN) to bring home as a treat for husband.
Hopped into the me-mobile, opened the sun roof and let the cool dry breeze of the Texas night flood in as I drove home listening to shoegazer opus Voyager One's Gun, a counterpoint of airy hypnotic guitars weaving over my slightly buzzing, wildly sated head.

Worry is for tomorrow. This good feeling here, now, is what life is all about.