March 2019 SOLC–Day 1
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My husband, Kurt lay on the couch, dozing, fighting off a nasty virus. He’d been miserable for a couple of days and had settled in for a nice nap.
Outside our old farmhouse, winter continued unabated. I wasn’t even slightly tempted to get outdoors and enjoy the fresh air. Instead, I sat, curled up in a chair, swaddled in a blanket, and utterly content. I had my book in hand, a cup of hot spiced tea nearby and a bowl full of dry cereal, one of my favorite snacks. Ahhhh …. vacation!
As I read, I munched contentedly, enjoying the long peaceful stretch of a rare unscheduled day and seemingly unlimited time to read.
This is wonderful! I thought.
Kurt stirred on the couch, then resettled a bit more comfortably. Poor guy, I thought, he really isn’t feeling good.
I grabbed another handful of cereal, popped some into my mouth, and snuggled into the chair and into my book.
A moment later, Kurt shifted, half opened his eyes, and looked around.
“Molly,” he said groggily, “What are you eating?”
I started in surprise, stopped chewing, glanced at his disgruntled expression and laughed.
“No, really,” he repeated, looking bemused, “What the #$@! are you eating? It sounds like there are barnyard animals eating in here!””
His face was a picture–sleepy, grumpy and slightly horrified. I couldn’t help it. My mouth still full of half-chewed cereal, I started to laugh. I was soon laughing so hard that I couldn’t finish chewing, and that made me laugh even harder. I leaned back in the chair, and I laughed and laughed and laughed. After a minute tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, and my sides started to ache. At some point, I heard Kurt begin to chuckle, too.
Finally, I was able to settle down. I finished chewing and swallowed the cereal. I wiped my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.
“OK,” I said, regaining control. ” It’s just Oatmeal Squares, and I’m almost done.” I popped another few in my mouth.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
Oh. I guess these are pretty loud. I started giggling again.
Kurt harrumphed and muttered something else unflattering about pigs or horses. Then he lay down again and rolled over, facing away from me. I quickly shoveled the last few Oatmeal Squares into my mouth, and crunched away.
As he dozed off again, I hurried to finish chewing, now fully aware of the sounds emerging from my mouth. Unexpectedly, a refrain threaded through my head,
“And on that farm he had a wife…..
“…with a CRUNCH CRUNCH here …
and a CRUNCH CRUNCH there!”
I giggled again, teetering on the edge of hilarity.
Ruthlessly, I squashed the giggles, swallowed the last piece of cereal, and took a deep sip of tea. I picked up my book and settled myself down, resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t be snacking again anytime soon.
Leavened with a bit of shared laughter, the quiet of the afternoon seemed richer now and settled around us. Within moments, Kurt had slipped fully into sleep, and I had slipped back into 1930s Los Angeles.