Ill-timed Aphasia

warning: BIG time bad words in this post.

Aphasia noun
apha·​sia | \ ə-ˈfā-zh(ē-)ə 

    medical : loss or impairment of the power to use or comprehend words

    etymology:  mid 19th century: from Greek, from aphatos ‘speechless’

***

Rissa and I stand in the checkout line at a Craft/Antiques Barn. Neither crafts nor antiques will be purchased. Today it's all about fudge. For David. On account of the fact that it's his first day teaching at a new school.

"I'm going to come back in November," I say.

"Oh?" asks Rissa.

"Yeah, they'll have lots of Christmas merch out then."

Around the expansive perimeter of the main floor there are high shelves showcasing a crap-tonne of Christmas inventory. All of it just waiting for Halloween to pass so that the entire barn can get its Christmas glow-up.

"Although," I say, wrinkling my nose at a 2-foot Santa in Buffalo plaid. "A lot of their stuff is cunt... cunt... cunt... cunnnnnnnt... cunnnnnnnnnnnt..."

Rissa's eyes widen at the first 'cunt.' By the fifth, she's holding her sides and almost falling over.

I'm not sure whether this is a migraine-induced bout of aphasia or if I can now add Tourette's Syndrome to my list of disabilities.

I take a breath. And another. No need to panic. 

"I... was... trying..." I close my mouth and take a breath in through my nose and release it slowly from my mouth. "To say... COUNTRY... Christmas," I explain.

"Ahhhhhh... that checks out."

I glance around. There are a few senior women in line, but none super close to us.

"Did I get louder with each one?"

"You didn't NOT get louder..."

"Can I help you?" asks the cashier.

"I'd like some fu... fu... fu..."

"We'd like some fudge, please," says Rissa.

I'm sweating WHERE now?

I'm at the kitchen table playing word games on my laptop. I have my Google timer set for 6.5 minutes of cool down. Cool down time is vital to surviving a HIIT (High Intensity Interval Training) workout. Otherwise, you're still sweating IN the shower. And you continue to sweat AFTER you've finished the shower. Freshly cleansed skin sweat somehow feels much, much worse. 

So here I am, typety-typing as I play Words With Friends, and I notice that my forearms - the UNDERSIDE of my forearms - are SLIDING on the table. Actually sliding. From all the sweat. 🤢

This here? Is why I choose not to exercise with other people. Inevitably, I look like ex-fighter pilot Ted Stryker when my heart rate climbs.  And no one wants to be in proximity to that gal.

Robert Hayes as Ted Stryker in Airplane!

Now that I've cooled down for 6.5 minutes, my forearms are no longer slidey... they're sticky.  

From all the dried sweat. 

Upon this realization, I spend way too much time pushing my forearms against the table and then then listening in horrified fascination as they SQUELLLLLLLLLCH when I unpeel them from the table.

I could use my forearms to lift cat hair from the living room ottoman!!! Which now, of course I have to try...