Saturday, January 11, 2014

"Cane Erotica" should totally be a genre!

 Good morning! Hey, I’d like to introduce you guys to the new hottie in my life. He’s tall, dark, strong, sleek and smooth and...wait. What do YOU think I’m talking about? Fred’s a CANE, for cryin’ out loud! (Y’all just need to get your minds outta the gutter. Geeze!)

 There I was, waiting in line at the pharmacy. I was kinda leaning on Hubby and looking for the best spot to fall, since there weren’t any open seats in the waiting area. THAT’S when I saw him. He had a firm, squishy grip, adjustable height with a safety screw to make sure he’d never let me down, and four of the handsomest feet I’d ever seen, firmly planted on the ground!

 Right then and there, I knew we were destined to be together. But Hubby frowned at me in that way that said I was being ridiculous. Possibly because of the way I was reverently stroking a cane and making “Oooohhhhhhh!!!!!!!” noises in the middle of a crowded Pharmacy.

Hubby- “Chris, you’ve already got a cane.”

Me- “Yeah, but mine doesn’t have four feet! I mean, how many times have I skidded and almost fallen in the last month alone?”

Hubby- “You just need to go slower.”

Me- “Slower!?! I already get lapped by people twice my age. If I went any slower, someone’d check for a pulse.”

 Still, I knew by his heavy sighs and eye-rolling that this was an argument I wasn’t going to win. (For now.) Pfft! He was just jealous of the desire he saw in my eyes every time I snuck a covert glance at Fred.

 As much as it left a tiny hole in my heart, I walked out of the Pharmacy that day without my new cane-crush. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him! The way he’d felt in my hand, the strong sense of support and stability he offered. Even the memory of the way the fluorescents2 glinted off his glass-like surface made my breath catch just a little.

 Every time I grabbed my former cane-mate, Tinker-Fell, I was really thinking of Fred. Yes, my purple sparkly cane had lost her...sparkle. I mean, once upon a time she and I had had a good thing, but those days were long gone. Now she was but a painful reminder of that which stood in the way of me and my desire for Fred.

 Which would probably go a long way in explaining why I’d accidentally forgotten to grab her from The Boy’s car when he left for a double shift yesterday morning. And I KNEW I had to make another Pharmacy run…

 So when I once again found myself waiting in line and leaning on The Oldest (I left Hubby at home this time), my heart was racing as I furtively glanced past the rack of boring, single footed canes and towards the shelf to where my Fred still stood, patiently waiting for the day I’d take him home to meet the family.

 Oh, I “struggled” with myself a little, just for effect. I reasoned that Hubby would be not-so-pleased. I reasoned I could instead buy a new rubber foot for Tinker-Fell and probably be OK. But...Tink was miles away, carelessly stuffed under a car seat, and I NEEDED a cane to keep from falling over (again) into a(nother) display.
 Needless to say, when my name was called, it was with Fred firmly clasped in my hand and a huge, blushing smile on my face that I approached the check-out counter.

 As soon as we returned home, everything was thrown of the table in my careless abandon. All I wanted was to adjust my bad boy to just the right size! You know...personalize him so he was of no use to anyone else but me.

 Imagine my shock and confusion when I realized Fred’s feet weren’t exactly level, but angled in a way that made him only fit to accompany me on one side. And it was the WRONG side! My heart silently broke as I put on a brave smile and said, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to learn to use him on the other side like the Therapist wanted me to anyway.” But know this, inside my soul was crying out at this most cruel twist of fate!

 Later, after Hubby had left for work, The Oldest approached me. He could see past my weak smile to the inner turmoil over the fact that I know knew Fred was going to have to go back and be exchanged for a new, less desirable assistant.

 When I shared my sadness with him, he just looked at me. I mean, The Oldest gave me this flat, level stare that, instead of soothing me with a balm of quiet understanding, held the look of, “Are you shitting me!?!”

 Then he reached out, not to me, but past me to where Fred stood mocking my love. The Oldest took hold of Fred, loosened his safety screw, and...turned the handle around so it was facing the other way.

 Annnnddddd…needless to say, the entire house erupted in laughter. At my expense. Because I’m a dumbass who thought they made side-specific canes instead of actually thinking to try TURNING THE HANDLE AROUND!

 Just like that, the spell was broken and I now see Fred for the smartass prankster he really is.

 Plus? I owe The Oldest a monster debt of gratitude for saving my ass from yet another round of public embarrassment when I tried to return a cane. Because I thought I bought one for the wrong side. Because one incident a week of wanting to hide my face in a smelly, paper bag is enough for any brain-fogged chick.