I stepped on a snail this morning.
It was on my friend’s front porch.
I used a piece of bark to flick most of it into the bushes afterward. Couldn’t leave it for my friend.
Years have passed since I last felt that squish under my shoe, but it was familiar just the same.
Close your eyes! Don’t you remember exactly what that’s like?
Crack! Sploootch. Rubber sticky. Blech. Ooze. Buh-bye.
Now I have that phantom snail imprint on my foot.
I recalled it perfectly when I was eating lunch.
I contemplated removing my tennies and socks, scrubbing my foot and trying to get rid of the feeling.
But I don’t actually want to touch my shoe yet.
So the snail impression stays.
Yesterday, my son smiled up at me with a new hole in his mouth.
He had parted with a tooth when I wasn’t looking.
I asked him where he put it and he started looking in earnest on the floor near his computer.
Clearly he had dropped it there at some point earlier in the day.
I spent the better part of an hour crouched under the table sorting through dust bunnies to find it.
The little boy seemed relieved when I finally picked it up and gave a triumphant cheer.
We zipped it into a plastic bag and later put it under his pillow.
And then the tooth fairy forgot to come.
It was a tough weekend.
The husband and I had a weird disagreement on Saturday.
The details aren’t important because we worked them out like we always do.
Unfortunately, the price for our little detour from bliss was a lot of anxiety and missed sleep.
I’m functioning on about half power right now.
That’s not quite enough to charge my fairy wings or hone my peripheral snail-avoidance vision.
Snails die and fairies come back, right?
I need chocolate.
Speaking of chocolate, I met my mom and Lou at Karen Krasne’s Extraordinary Desserts on Friday.
Every time I go, I am reminded that I should go more often. So should you.
Here is a blurry photo of my breakfast pastry.