i broke up with my boyfriend recently. or he broke up with me. i'm not really sure exactly how to describe this one. all i know is i went to bed wednesday night, exhausted after a long day of work and was woken up four hours later by his drunken and belligerent shouting and he continued to me out of character and distant. so i asked him to leave. and two days later he went back to new york. he came by my house before his departure with a weak apology for his behavior. self sabotage. acting out at my expense. he was sorry. but that's where the line was drawn. no efforts of reparation. i sat there holding the telluride truffle treaty offering he placed in my hesitant hands. for once chocolate was unappealing. he sat near me on the couch avoiding my teary eye contact. and then he left. and i may never see him again. he didn't fight to get me back. he didn't do everything in his power to heal the hurt. he silently slipped away. and i find myself alone again. and farther than ever from the wedding isle.
so it seems almost comical that the following day i should be the victim of a most unfortunate accident. i dragged myself to work. eyes slightly puffy from crying myself to sleep the night before. that burning in my chest. each breath fighting back more tears. i went to work and threw myself into the service. helping the sushi chef grate daikon, i pulled down the food processor from the overhead shelf. in one quick movement i managed to snag the plug part of the cord under the kitchenaid electric mixer that makes it's home directly to it's left. and moments later the crashing noise brought both my bosses rushing through the swinging doors. "Are you okay?" he asked first. I stood laughing. Stunned. Frightened. I felt for my skull. A delicate touch sent pain shooting through my head. I winced and the facts of the story came to light. I had somehow managed to conk myself on the head with the entirety of my beloved appliance, and yet still remain standing. my boss reached for a cloth napkin and filled it with ice. he led me towards the dinning room to sit down but my legs felt weak and uneasy beneath me. i sunk slowly to the ground and leaned against the island. was this a sign? what was the universe trying to tell me? the doctors in the emergency room seemed amused. and also relieved that i didn't seem to be suffering from any severe malady or trauma. lots of rest and ibuprophen. see me back in the office in four days. seems i am lucky i have such a hard head. maybe i shouldn't be so stubborn about the kitchenaid afterall? if i owned my own, maybe the vendetta wielding one at work wouldn't be out to get me. it's the exact one i would have purchased. even it's orange gloss mocks me. i am glad i didn't die, but it would have been an interesting story.
