Mini Me has been in recovery mode since her return from India. This has primarily involved sleeping and elevating her foot on the couch. When Oreggano stopped by to stoop, Mini Me, always congenial, woke up for a bit and informed us, “I took a shower and then put on a nice shirt and a necklace. They’re yours.” “Good thing you got dressed up for the couch,” Oreggano quipped. “You should be feeling better in no time.”
Mini Me dozed off again and Oreggano and I took our positions on the porch. We were just finishing our first glass of wine when one of the neighbors, who joined us on a previous occasion, approached us, “I wasn’t sure if I ever thanked you for that glass of wine.” “I don’t recall,” I responded and asked, “Would you like another?” “Sure,” he excitedly replied. I poured him a glass and a few minutes later he disappeared into my next door neighbor’s house. “Smooth, very smooth,” Oreggano commented.
The neighbor eventually returned, handed us his empty glass, thanked us for the wine and told us he would see us again soon. “Even more smooth,” I told Oreggano. “We really need to try that some time soon.”
As we continued to stoop, Mini Me continued to sleep. Cream of Tartar had not yet heard about her injury and we thought it might be a good idea to give him a different version, one that involved a knife. “I think you should tell him she fell 20 feet after trying to shank someone,” I suggested. “Ah, perfect,” said Oreggano.
The next day, while Mini Me was out and about in her nice shirt and necklace, Oreggano did as we had planned. “What was his response?” I asked. “Nothing yet. I’m pretty sure he is wallowing in his guilt,” she replied. Hopefully his guilt will bring him this way with a lawnmower. I still can’t find my shed key and no matter how nice my shirt or necklace is, it doesn’t get the lawn mowed or make Mini Me feel better.