“Are you ever going to do laundry again?” David asks me. I am collecting Woody’s toys to give to all the poor dogs in the animal shelter. Give his old toys new life, so to speak. Plus the sight of them sends me into hysterics every day.
“Why? I bought you a new package of underwear.”
He looks at me. I avoid his eyes. He knows. No laundry load was ever complete until Woody jumped into the hot, clean clothes, right out of the dryer. I know when that buzzer goes off and Woody doesn’t appear I’ll have a nervous breakdown and die.
“Look, why don’t you get a job? Apply to Grad School? “
“Just what I need : DEADlines.” What a whiner.
“’When you hurt, do something anyway.’” He says, quoting someone because it is particularly eloquent coming from Mr. PottyMouth. “Go for a walk. Exercise is good for you.”
Nonetheless, whoever’s words those were stuck in my head all day and by day’s end I found myself walking around the block.
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