birthday-presents

Early this morning I put in a call to my very good friend MP, and before going about our usual business of the day we went, in spite of the torrents of rain, for a saunter along the egg-smelling banks of the St. Joe River which borders our neighborhood. It was the perfect weather for a slicker with a hood, and galoshes. (I never get to wear my galoshes, so I was excited. I feel like I'm four when I put them on. And it makes puddle-stomping so much drier.)

As we laughed and I poked around the usual debris looking for odd trinkets to decorate my apartment (I already have a few twisted spoons, small medicine bottles, bits of colored glass and broken Delftware, and a big old eaten-away brick that says "BRAZIL" on it -- which fell on Adam's foot when he helped me put in my air conditioners early in the summer), MP's eyes were caught by a yellow glitter under a rock in the water.

She edged out on a pile of flotsam, bent down, and pulled out a ring. A simple, plain band that looked almost a little too bright in the gray cast of the day. I picked my way over the rocks, cans, and tree branches to crouch over her shoulder and get a better look.

I really wanted it. I asked her if I could have it; she said no.

"But it's my birthday! I want it!" I said in tones of great injury.

"I already got you something from Italy! I found it and I get to keep it!"

But I couldn't let her have it. I needed that ring. So I knocked her down and took it. (Yes, I know. I'm a terrible friend. But I'll be making dinner on Sunday, so that should make up for it.)

Suddenly my career plans are changing drastically. I find that, instead of the legal field, or even grad school for writing or English lit, I want to spend the next five hundred years in a black cave so deep no one's discovered it yet, eating raw fish.

Strange thing, though. I've been wearing the ring since this morning, and no one seems to know I'm here.

Also, I got my period this morning. Hello, cramps. Thank you for your many happy returns.