This morning I get up as usual, forgetting what day it is, and head into the bike shop to send and check a couple emails while nursing a BIG cup of strong coffee...per the usual.
James rolls in and we banter about what to do, and how we should call in sick and go for a ride...sometime during which my coffee kicks in, coupled with the speudoephedrine and I get all antsy to do something. We decide to unload the van and I imagine cleaning the shop out, and I make a joke about Michella the cleaning lady that comes by twice a week, whom I have a little crush on, mostly, of course, based on the unavailability of that which is sought - very Taoist of me, I know.
I decide that its late enough to make up, on the spot, a love song about Michella and her cleaning tasks and of course the sweatpants, how could I leave out the sweatpants!? I bellow out a few lines, and I'm quite happy with my creative genius so early in the morning, most of the lines even rhyme (a simple rhyme scheme but I'm impressed with myself none-the-less), and as I put the vacuum back together, STILL unaware of what day it is, Michella herself comes barging through the shop door looking for said vacuum, leaving me beet-faced, and hoping to gawd the fact that we have had not a single mutual word in our shared linguistic barriers (me not much Italian and her not much Engrish) that she has no idea I was just professing my undying love for her and her sweatpants. James has a good laugh, for which I agree to let him have free of charge as I stand there with my foot in my mouth.
I think I will spend the rest of the morning busying myself with tasks away from the Farm.
I told you I had no charm with a language barrier. But likewise I save myself from looking like a complete ASS too. Blessings wrapped in a shroud of curses.
S.
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